


District Affairs

by Rose_Milburn



Series: The AU life of Ivan Xav Vorpatril [8]
Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2019-11-23 13:04:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 119,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18152225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_Milburn/pseuds/Rose_Milburn
Summary: Count Ivan Vorpatril Voralys has the funds to import a surgical team from Beta to work on his employee, Darek Belka, and his friends who were injured in an explosion at Tanery Base. Retired Admiral Stefan Waleska is his new District Medical Officer tasked with implementing the program.





	1. Chapter 1

 

“ _Blast_ that stupid goon.”

Medtech Flora Dunbar hauled her aching body out of the sonic shower and muttered to herself as she combed her hair before popping a couple of painkillers. Her last shift on this rotation had been one drama after another. She hadn’t signed on for this stint at the orbital transfer station to wrestle spaced-out druggies, or drugged-out spacers either, for that matter. All she’d been trying to do was put the soldier somewhere safe to sleep it off and sober up. Her limited patience for self-inflicted damage ran out abruptly when the drunken oaf in his unfamiliar green uniform had first slammed her into the bulkhead and then vomited all over her.

The two troopers in matching uniforms had been most apologetic when they arrived to pick him up, but that didn’t help get the stink of the lout’s spew out of her hair. _Barrayaran Imperial Service Security._ That just about explained everything, including the uniforms _and_ the behaviour. She wouldn’t be holding her breath for the official apology they’d promised her, either. The infirmary manager could deal with the red tape. At least he’d given her a week of sick pay on top of her contract. It would take at least that long for her black eye to settle down. Right now, it just hurt. Hopefully he’d wrangle her some decent compensation from the Barrayarans, too. He was hell bent on doing just that when she’d last seen him, after he’d run the concussion tests and sent her back to her quarters.

It was a case of be careful what you wished for, she realised. Everything had seemed like an adventure, a chance to get out and away from Silica University Hospital and it’s never-ending sameness, but it had been six and two threes, really. As an adventure it had all been pretty much a damp squib. At least she’d had running water back on Beta, even if the roof did press in on her from time to time. Flora could hardly wait. This time tomorrow she’d be on the shuttle back to the old sand box, her own bed and a hot shower.

Before she rolled into bed Flora checked her comconsole. The familiar face of her sister sprang to life. Fiona was bubbling with barely repressed excitement.

“Flo! Get your skinny butt downside right now! We’ve both of us got an _interview!_ Grab the first shuttle you can. We have to _plan_. I’ve gotta run. I’m so late for my shift. I’ll see you tomorrow night, if not sooner.”

The message was two hours old, but that didn’t stop Flora from shouting in frustration at her sister’s image. “Where? Who?” She looked at her chrono and groaned. Fi would be at work now. She’d just have to wait. Surely she could have said _who_ had responded to their applications? What if it was with the _Survey?_ They’d applied every year since they’d graduated. This year was their last chance before the age limit kicked in. All thought of sleep fled as she replayed the message time and again. Wasn’t it just like Fiona to give her half the message in her excitement? She started to run her fingers through her hair in frustration but pulled up short and winced in pain. She’d forgotten the lump on her head and the black eye. Dismayed, she went back to the tiny mirror in her cabin’s washroom to look at the damage again.

“Oh, no!” She finger-combed her hair this way and that. Her dark chestnut locks would hide the lump and bruising on her head, but bloodshot was _not_ a normal eye colour. Celtic genes, her mother had always told them about their blue eyes and pale skin. The bruise was going to be livid tomorrow. There’d be no hiding it. “Stupid, stupid Barrayarans! Rotten, criminal… _barbarians_. They should be banned from contact with normal people! They’re just savages!”

She slammed open the pitiful first aid kit attached to the bulkhead and rummaged for some bruise ointment but gave up in disgust and banged it closed again. She didn’t even have a cold pack. She turned her frustration on her kit bag, stuffing her uniforms and clothes in any which way. Of course they didn’t fit, packed like that. She had to turn the whole thing inside out and start again. There were tears in her eyes by the time she stomped off to the shuttle bay, and not just from the pain. To hell with waiting for her time slot. Flora was not going to stay one more minute in this…this _dog box_ she’d been enduring for the past three months. Not that she’d seen too many dogs, but they probably lived better than _this_ …

 

“You have _got_ to be joking.” Flora stared at her sister in utter dismay. It wasn’t the Survey. “Barrayar! Are you out of your mind? You want us to go to _Barrayar_? Just look at me! The ones they let into their Imperial service are the intelligent ones. They’ll eat us alive down there. We couldn’t sleep safe in our beds!”

Fiona threw her hands up “Oh, come on, Flo. They’re not that bad. There’s plenty of drunks on Beta who would give you a hard time, too. It was a sweet little herm who broke _my_ wrist, remember. That’s just what you get in an emergency room. It’ll be _exciting_. Specialised burns rehabilitation. That will really make a difference. We won’t just be patching up louts who are going to do the exact same thing the next leave they get. I’ve heard Barrayar is really beautiful. You saw the vids of that Imperial wedding they had. Everyone was _outside_. In the fresh air.”

Flora wasn’t going to be mollified that easily. “And that’s another thing! An emperor, for heaven’s sake? They still have counts and lords and ladies, too. How archaic is that? There aren’t any citizens. They’re all _subjects_ of His Imperial Majesty! It’s..it’s mediaeval! They probably still have dungeons, and torture…and…and…”

“And this guy, Count Voralys, wants help treating and rehabilitating burns victims. We should at least go to the interview. I never thought you’d be so _narrow_ , Flo!”

Flora glowered at her sister. It was easy for her to say. Half of her reaction was disappointment, of course, that the interview hadn’t been the one she thought she’d wanted. She’d hoped for the Survey so badly. Space duty wasn’t all she’d imagined it to be though. Being cooped up on the transfer station had been bad enough for three months. The Survey sometimes went out for a year, or more. It needed thinking about. Flora didn’t actually know what she wanted anymore. She relented in the face of Fi’s enthusiasm.

“I’m not going to be anybody’s subject. That has to be quite clearly understood. So when is this interview with…who did you say? Some count?”

“Count Voralys. He’d be our employer, but he’s not doing the interviews. That’s with a guy called Dr Waleska, the District Medical Officer, whatever that means. It’s tomorrow, 1400 hours, at the Barrayaran Embassy. You and I have got some homework to do, if we don’t want to sound completely ignorant.”

With her head stuffed full of facts, figures and more information that she’d ever wanted to know about Barrayar, Flora duly kitted herself out in her best formal sarong, _with blouse top_ , she’d learned from her research, and fronted up in her sister’s wake at the reception desk in the Barrrayaran Embassy. The interior was absolutely stunning, with inlaid wood everywhere, even on the floors. She ran her fingers across the polished surface of the desk and lifted her feet one by one to stare at the pattern she was treading on while Fiona did the talking. Not one person told her off. They didn’t seem to mind a bit. The startlingly handsome clerk on reception merely smiled at her. Flora didn’t trust him, though. He wasn’t wearing an earring.

“If you would follow me, ladies, Admiral Waleska is expecting you.”

Hey, wait, what? _Admiral?_ They weren’t putting themselves in line for some sort of military service, were they? She stood her ground and didn’t follow him anywhere. “ _Admiral_ Waleska? I thought he was a doctor.”

“Yes ma’am. Vice admiral Stefan Waleska. Imperial Medical Service, Retired. He was Emperor Gregor’s personal physician for over ten years.” The smile became a little strained. Flora could just see what he was thinking. _He’s a very important man. What the hell do you think you’re doing keeping him waiting?_

She relented. “Retired? That’s all right then. Please lead the way.” Fiona gave her a subtle dig in the ribs as they followed the clerk along a short corridor. Flora ignored it. They weren’t here begging for favours. It was an interview. That worked both ways.

Dr Waleska turned out to be a neat, well-dressed man in typical Barrayaran style with greying dark hair and penetrating brown eyes. Flora would have pegged him for late middle aged, maybe eighty or so, but people aged differently on Barrayar, or so she’d found out. Eighty was old, there. Perhaps he was quite a bit younger. He noticed her bruises straight away, of course. After the usual startled looks at their appearance, swiftly hidden, and all the normal courtesies were exchanged, he ushered them to seats around a low occasional table. It was the first thing he mentioned.

“I’m sorry to see you’ve been injured, ma’am. It looks to be very recent.”

Flora let herself smile, just a little. “Yes, doctor. Unfortunately It was my first meeting with a Barrayaran. I’ve just come off shift at the transfer station sick bay. I suppose you could say he had…er…overindulged in our hospitality.”

Waleska’s brows drew together and his lips thinned. “A drunken oaf on shore leave? I’m very sorry to hear this has happened. It’s not a good first impression for you. I _trust_ he’s being dealt with. He must be one of the _Kanzian’s_ crew. She’s the only one in dock at the moment. Would you like me to have a word to the captain? I know Kristoff Vorkalloner quite well.”

He looked very indignant on her behalf. Hurriedly she shook her head. “Oh, no. I’m sure he didn’t really mean it. He tripped and was too intoxicated to save himself. No doubt he’s very sorry now that he’s sobered up. In the brig, I do believe, or so your service security patrol men told me. They did seem to be rather cross with him.”

“No doubt.” Waleska allowed himself a brief smile. Flora got the distinct impression matters weren’t going to rest there, but he said no more about it. Instead he glanced at their application forms, and then back up at them. “I hadn’t realised your birth dates coincide. Identical twins are somewhat unusual on Beta, are they not?”

Fiona joined in the conversation. “ _Somewhat_ is an understatement. We caused a bit of a stir, or so our mother told us. We were a body birth. Second pregnancy. Apparently we were born breaking all the rules.” She smiled.

“I can imagine. Three children isn’t very common here, is it? There are no population controls on Barrayar, you’ll be glad to know. You can have many children as you like. You will find there _are_ quite strict rules, however, especially at my District Medical Centre.”

_Nice one, Fi_. She was going to scupper their chances before they’d even started. Flora tried to smooth things over. “I’m sure my sister didn’t mean to imply that we’re rebels, Doctor Waleska, or indisciplined in any way. I think you’ll see from our records that we’re well used to medical regimens. Nursing burns is a very demanding field and rehabilitation requires lots of patience. I’m sure you won’t be disappointed with our dedication or attention to detail. It’s the small things that make a difference to burns patients.”

“I’m glad you understand that.”

“Of course.” Flora saved the glare for later. She hadn’t been too keen on the job to start with, but that didn’t mean she wanted to throw their chances away before they’d even found out about it.

The doctor moved on. “So tell me what you think makes the difference in a successful facial reconstruction, for example. Let’s assume our patient still has the use of his or her eyes. What does a Betan team do better than anyone else?”

“The secret’s in the substrate model for the skin graft, in my opinion.” Flora tried to sound as knowledgeable as she could. “Standard textbooks call for a hundred and thirty-two reference points in the construction. That’s not enough. You could take thirty reference points for one eye socket alone. When I was contour mapping for Doctor Leckarts he always insisted on at least double that. His results were second to none. It’s the most time consuming part of the procedure, but so worth it.”

“What made you leave his team? If you don’t mind my saying so, it seems like a step down for someone with your qualifications to be working in an orbital station infirmary.”

Trust him to pick on the weak spot in her resumé. Flora mentally shrugged her shoulders. Tell him like it is, or was.“Dr Leckarts is the most brilliant reconstruction expert I have ever met. As a human being, he totally sucks. You’d think he’d never seen earrings before, the way he ignored them. My situation became untenable.”

Dr Waleska regarded her for a few moments. What was he thinking? He said nothing, merely turning to her sister. “And you, madame? I see your latest position is in paediatric prosthetics. That’s a long way from burns rehabilitation.”

Fiona bit her lip. “Not really. There are actually a lot of similarities. I needed something different. Did you hear about the accident at the orbital lithium refinery? It must have been eighteen months or so ago.” Fi knew exactly how long ago it was, down to the minute, but she was playing it down, Flora could see. Her sister went on. “It was the most awful mess. I had one too many patients who had been splattered with molten electrolyte. I needed a break. That sort of nursing is so intense it’s just not possible to keep doing it forever.”

“Our priorities in this program are men with plasma burns. You’re ready to go back to that, now?” he asked, trying to gauge her reaction.

She nodded. “I think so. I can sleep again. One of the techs came back to see me not so long ago. He was just so grateful for what _I’d_ done. It’s not about us, after all. It’s about the best outcomes for the patients. I’m good at what I do and I make a difference.”

Dr Waleska sat back in his chair and regarded the pair of them. Out of nowhere, he changed the subject. “There’s a reception here at the embassy tomorrow night. Would the two of you like to come as my guests? We’re celebrating the announcement of the transfer of the new Crown Prince of Barrayar into his replicator. It would give you a chance to meet a few Barrayarans in a social setting and hopefully let you gain more of a feel for our culture. There are a great many lingering preconceptions about us, especially here on Beta. You’d be thoroughly briefed, of course, if you were offered positions on the team, but it’s always best to see for yourself, of course.”

Flora glanced over to Fiona.It would give _him_ a chance to see how they dealt with Barrayarans, too. Fi nodded for the both of them. “Certainly, Doctor Waleska. I think we’d both enjoy that very much.”

He didn’t keep them much longer. It was quite a strange interview, Flora thought as they made their way out, clutching their written invitations, on _real paper_ , and the packet of orientation material he’d given them both.

“Let’s get home, first, and we can discuss this properly,” Fiona commented as they made their way to the rapid transit station, threading their way through the teeming crowds in the main concourse. “It’s too hard to think here.”

Flora spent most of the short trip home just looking at the cream envelope with its elegant embossed seal. She inspected it closely. There was a rose, of all the incongruous things, and some sort of leafy wreath surmounting what she thought at first was a figure six. That couldn’t be right. She held it out to Fiona.

“What do you reckon that is?”

“It’s a B for Barrayar, or maybe Vorbarra. He’s the emperor. They have a different script, don’t forget.”

“Oh, cripes. That’s going to take some getting used to.”

Fiona gave her a strange look. “You’re talking like it’s a done deal. We haven’t got the job, yet, don’t forget, and I didn’t think you wanted it, anyway.”

Flora took another look at the envelope, and its seal. “You’re right. I didn’t. But that was then.”

As they pushed their way to the door and jumped off the RTS car at their stop, Fiona flashed Flora a huge grin. “I knew you’d come round. Barrayar here we come.”

 

It was usually first in best dressed with their more or less combined wardrobe, but they were dressing to impress for the reception. Flora and Fiona took their time deciding. In the end Flora chose dark green silk, a long, round-collared tunic top over matching baggy pants caught in at the ankle.

“Beta does Komarr,” Fiona said, looking at the finished outfit. Flora had coiled her hair over her bruises as best she could, letting it fall across her eye and down over her left shoulder in a thick rope reaching past her waist.

Flora inspected Fi’s blue and gold silk brocade sarong with a cropped, sleeveless blouse in contrasting gold silk. Fiona had piled her hair high on her head, leaving both ears, and earring, well-exposed. “Don’t you go shocking those strait-laced Barrayarans, Fi. I’m sure they can all read earrings at the Embassy.”

Fiona fingered her _serially monogamous heterosexual currently open to negotiation_ earring and smiled evilly. “Oh, come on, Flora. You saw that clerk on the desk. If there are any more like that…Who knows? Lord Vordagger himself might be there.”

“They’re just books, Fi. _Fiction_. You know what that is.”

Fiona picked up her invitation from the dressing table. “Oh, don’t be a spoilsport. I’ll behave. Flirting isn’t against the law, you know. I’m not dead yet.”

Flora sighed as she grabbed her own invitation and followed her sister out of their apartment. “Just don’t do it where Dr Waleska can see you, Fi, OK? He’ll be watching how we behave.”

There was a hum of activity at the embassy. They were passed from reception through a security gate with a very unobtrusive body scan, before being handed off to an escort who paged Dr Waleska and took them through to the reception room antechamber. The doctor caught up with them there and introduced them to the ambassador. He even got their names right, which impressed Flora more than it ought, seeing as how she was distinguishable from her sister quite easily at the moment. After a word or two with Ambassador Vorgarin he took them over to meet a tall officer, dressed in a splendid red and blue uniform with two dress swords.

“Mademoiselles Flora and Fiona Dunbar, may I present Captain Kristoff Vorkalloner of His Imperial Majesty’s warship the _Admiral Kanzian?”_

The captain clicked his heels and bowed _._ “it’s my great pleasure to meet you, ladies. I’m very glad to be able to offer my apologies in person to you, Mademoiselle Flora. I was so sorry to hear about ex-Corporal Harper’s behaviour. He won’t be let loose on any other Betan civilians this trip, you’ll be glad to know.”

“ _Ex_ -Corporal? I hope you weren’t too harsh with him. He only tripped, you know?” Flora tried to smile at the captain. He looked very stern.

“Yes. It’s only ex-Corporal and not the _late_ Corporal. Trooper Harper is usually a good man. He’ll soon work his way back up. He was very shame-faced when we played him the security videos. Especially about the vomit. That was most unfortunate.”

Flora couldn’t quite decide if he was joking or not. She risked a quick glance at Dr Waleska. There was a decided twinkle in _his_ eye.

“Oh. You _are_ joking. You wouldn’t really execute one of your crew for a misdemeanour.”

A smile cracked his face at last. “It costs too much to train them. Otherwise I might be tempted from time to time. But here, ladies, let me introduce you to some of my officers. I can see them hovering hopefully. You can’t possibly be wanting to spend your time with old married fossils like Stefan and myself. Miss Flora and Miss Fiona, this is Lieutenant-Commander Vortala, my first officer, and Lieutenant Lord Vortugalov. Etienne and Vlad, please find the ladies a drink and something to eat.”

Flora hardly had time to say thank you over her shoulder to Dr Waleska, who waved them both off towards the buffet. “Enjoy yourselves. I’m quite sure Etienne and Vlad will look after you.”

Fiona slid her hand through the one called Vlad’s arm and practically dragged him off. “So, _Lord Vortugalov_ , is that anything like Lord Vordagger?”

 

It was going to be a long night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armsman Marcus Fox is in a rut.

“ _Good_ morning, Fox.”

“Good morning, my Lord Count.”

Armsman Marcus Fox braced to attention as Count Voralys breezed past him into the Blue Saloon where a late breakfast had been laid out. Yeah, it looked like it had been a good morning for his liege lord already. A very good morning, in fact. Married life seemed to suit him right down to the ground. _Half his luck._ Fox gloomily contemplated his future for a second or two as Armsman Walton poured coffee for the count and his lady. It was good to see him back to his old self, though, after he’d been so sick. The look that passed between the couple was half satisfaction and half promise, and half—. Fox pulled himself up short. There’d probably be a new Lord Vordagger adventure in the offing. No Doubt the _Barrayaran Lady_ had enough source material to keep her going for years. Perhaps he could get some tips, the next time the count was in a loquacious mood. Fox risked a subtle glance over to Walton who had his lips very firmly pressed together and was staring off into space. He could see the twinkle in Walton’s eye from half the room away. He wasn’t the only one to notice, then.

Count Voralys didn’t linger over breakfast. He didn’t have the time. It was going to be a big day, with the State of the District meeting about to commence in the dining room. He’d instituted these not long after coming back from his honeymoon and they were held once a month. This one, in Vorbarr Sultana, was convenient for people like Byerly Vorrutyer who was a busy man around town these days but the location rotated through the main towns in the District as well.

Walton held the countess’s chair for her as she rose and watched them leave the room. He waited for the door to close. “It’s not like I’m envious or anything, but I’m as jealous as _hell_. They’re really happy, aren’t they? My mother was on at me _again_ last week to find a nice girl and settle down. Chance would be a fine thing.”

“I know what you mean.” Fox helped to load the dishes back onto the trolley. With the admiral away and Madame Waleska taking the chance to visit her cousin, Voralys House was strangely quiet. Miss Marie had been and gone with her slaves Harper and Price in tow, and Lady Alys and Simon Vorillyan hadn’t made it down to breakfast. That was another right pair, totally nutty about each other, in the most refined way, of course… “It’s never too late, though. I sometimes think the last bus has already left, but you just don’t know, do you?”

Walton sighed. “Kosa and Sarmiento seem to find ladies without any effort at all, Driscoll has been married for years and even Harper has found himself a partner, not that I want to go down that path, but I’m happy for him. The only ones worse off than us are Devaux and that’s because he’s been on night duty for a year, and Price, who’s still wet behind the ears. There must be _something_ we’re doing wrong, Fox?”

“Well, gossiping isn’t going to help us. You take this lot back to the kitchen and see if Ma Belka has a younger sister and I’ll man the front door. People should be arriving any minute.”

Truth be told, Fox didn’t have any answers for their frustration. It was looking more and more likely there’d be no one around to burn an offering for him, when his time came. There was always Miss Marie, of course. She’d never forget her Markie. Perhaps that was all the parenting he’d ever get to do. Sometimes it was just the luck of the draw. He’d be forty in a couple of weeks, after all. He hadn’t just missed the last bus, he’d missed the boat as well.

There were twelve of them at the table, including the count and his lady. Fox poured glasses of water all round before he took a place at the count’s left hand side, facing the door. Only Byerly Vorrutyer sniffed at _water_ , and that was just out of habit. He knew if he behaved himself he’d be invited to a Ma Belka lunch. He wasn’t going to jeopardise his chances this early in the day. It was a miracle he’d made it, though. No one else in the whole of Vorbarr Sultana would dare schedule him before noon.

Philip Nicolaides prepared to take notes and keep them all straight with the calendar. His wife, Helen, had segued into the job of District welfare officer when the count had been sick, and she’d done such a brilliant job she’d just become a fixture. By and Sela were there to report on the progress of their beautification programmes and the outcomes of the Betan tourist plan. There were two of the District accountants plus Etienne Vorinnis from Rotherhall and Guard Commanders Sheridan and Chalmers to round out the numbers.

The count turned to Byerly Vorrutyer first. “Would you prefer to start the ball rolling, By? We don’t need to keep you once we hear how the painting is going. I know your appointment book is choc-a-bloc.”

By looked slightly pained and slightly dismayed both. “I wouldn’t dream of rearranging your agenda at this late stage, Ivan. Sela and I are very happy to hear how things are progressing in the District. We’ve got a vested interest now, don’t forget. We’ve also got a short presentation to show you. It would take the armsmen a few minutes to set it all up. I’m in no hurry. I’ve cleared my appointments until 1500 hours.”

Raine elbowed her husband in the ribs. “Don’t be provoking, Ivan. You know perfectly well everyone expects to still be here at lunch time. It’s not _you_ they’ve come all this way for.”

He snickered, just a little. “Can’t a man have some fun?” He waved a hand at the agenda. “Some of this stuff isn’t funny at all. Especially number one on the agenda.”

Zac Sheridan, the Municipal Guard commander in New Sheffield, shifted in his chair. “It’s downright depressing, that’s what it is. I thought we were well on top of the drug trade in New Sheffield, and now this happens. Three overdose deaths in two weeks. There must be a new player in town.”

Fox could see the anger in the count’s eyes as he answered Sheridan. “Not in my town, there won’t be, not for much longer, at least. What do you need, Zac?”

“Half a dozen of your armsmen might do the trick, sir. People who are too scared to talk to troopers might be too scared _not_ to talk to armsmen.”

The count shook his head. “I can’t spare you that many. Let me have a think about what I can do. We’ll come back to that. What was next on the list?”

They went through the towns, and the budgets. Not everything was depressing. Rotherhall was thriving. Unemployment was at an all time low and the harvest was shaping up to be another bumper season. The tourists were arriving in droves. Etienne Vorinnis circulated holographs of the latest attraction, five Barrayaran Black foals.

“They’re the cutest things you ever saw,” he said. “Ben Eccles held off breeding for nearly three years, in the bad old days. He wants to make up for lost time, now, he told me. He could fill his sales book three times over, but he’s very picky where his children go.”

Byerly’s holovid turned out to be a drive round the streets of New Sheffield. Apart from the brilliantly coloured tower blocks spreading out like enormous flowers between their somber cousins still waiting to be painted, some of the wider boulevards had banners down the centre median, again in all the colours of the rainbow.

“The exciting thing is Sela took this holovid from the front of the new tourist tram. It’s an old municipal clunker, actually, converted for sight-seeing. It should be in a museum but the clunking is half the fun. I’m sure the Betans would love to get out and push if they had to. They _adore_ turning the cast-iron chair backs around when we reach the terminus. More and more of the Rotherhall visitors are booking an extra two days to see New Sheffield. It’s not much, but it’s a start. We’re planning on distributing the holovid to all the travel agents we deal with on Beta, with your approval, my lord count.”

Fox could hardly recognise his old home town. Even the locals walking down the streets were dressed in brighter colours than he remembered. Some of them actually waved as the tram went past.

Count Voralys glanced at his countess, who nodded enthusiastically. “Run with it. It’s brilliant.”

Prestwich was slower to move, but employment was on the up. The guard commander there, Chalmers, report crime rates slowly trending down. The drug culture was even more entrenched in Prestwich than it was in New Sheffield, but the programmes Stefan Waleska had set up were starting to kick in. The big changes were in child health, and in depression rates.

Count Voralys growled again. “Wally told me there was clear data about the effects of Vitamin D on depression, but this is so obvious it’s hard to believe nothing was ever done before. All the place needed was a bit of sunshine. Vorclarence had to be the worst piece of crap ever to have charge of a District. He almost lost a whole generation, here.”

Fox had to bite his lip. A bit of sunshine, _and_ the Imperial Engineers with their gravitic imploder lance, of course. When he’d first met Ivan Vorpatril he was hell bent on getting his job done so he could crawl back to his old indolent life in Ops and chuff along under the radar. He’d never have given a second thought to public health or crime rates back then, unless the crime was about to be perpetrated against _him,_ or his emperor. Voralys District had a lot to be thankful for now that Lady Alys Vorpatril’s little boy had _commitments_.

The last item on the agenda was a progress report from Admiral Waleska on his way home from Beta. They all had copies and the count went through it with them.

“As you can see, Wally narrowed down the short list quite considerably. It’s a pity he decided against this Leckarts fellow. He looked very good on paper. Wally doesn’t say what put him off, though, and this second choice of his is going to need six more weeks to wind up his commitments. But, looking on the bright side, his follow up interview with the medtechs went well and they’ve accepted a six months posting with options to stay longer. They’ll be coming on ahead with Wally to have the facility up and running for Dr Wrachmann when he gets here. The problem is, what are we going to do with them all? I’d somehow imagined middle-aged men with families, like the doctor, but his wife and kids are waiting back on Beta until the school year finishes. Medtech Dunbar, Fiona Artemis, and Medtech Dunbar, Flora Selena are sisters and single, Wally says, with excellent experience. They’re probably a pair of seventy-year-old fussy spinsters. He’s getting a bit cryptic about them, isn’t he? What do you reckon he means when he says I won’t want double the trouble if I don’t look after them properly?”

By Vorrutyer glanced through the rest of Wally’s report and shrugged. “I suppose if one takes a pet the other will resign, too? If each is the only family the other’s got they’ll want to stay together. You’ll just have to schmooze them, big time. Sela’s our Betan liaison. What do you think they’d like, Sela?”

Sela Thorne, Betan herm and By’s soulmate, gave him a wicked grin. “I have the best idea. The Dower House has just become vacant. The last family moved out three days ago and it’s being refurbished as we speak. Betans would love that old place with its spiral wooden staircase and double height entry hall and creaky floorboards. Perhaps we could even scare up a ghost for them, or at least an old family retainer. There are six good bedrooms to choose from for any doctors and medtechs we can round up and it’s only five minutes from New Sheffield District Hospital.”

Count Voralys looked doubtful. “They couldn’t stay there on their own. They’d be lost. Sela, how would you like a couple of weeks in the District? Get them settled in and show them the ropes. You must be desperate to get a break from Byerly by now.” The count clicked his fingers as inspiration struck him. “And I know what else we’ll do. I’ll second a couple of armsmen to work with Sheridan on the drugs case. They can stay there as well and keep an eye on the ladies when they’re not at work. The Dower House is practically next door to the police station, isn’t it? That would save me having to open up the District House and staffing it. We’d need just the cook for four or five people. We could kit him or her out as an old family retainer like you say, Sela.”

Byerly looked dismayed. “Two weeks? What am I supposed to do without Sela for two whole weeks? What’s Sela supposed to do without me, if it comes to that. You know it needs a keeper most of the time.”

Sela swatted Byerly on the arm. “I like that! It wasn’t _me_ who wrecked the ground car, driving out to Lord Vorbohn’s place.”

“That was most certainly not my fault, and you can’t even _drive_ , Sela.”

The count stepped in to halt what was just about to become a lively spat, as Sela opened its mouth to retaliate. “You two can discuss that later, but it does remind me that these two probably don’t drive either. Not many people do, on Beta. All the more need for a couple of armsmen. Fox, you’ve got the best background to be able to assist the Municipal Guard, plus you know New Sheffield. Would you like a change of scene for a few weeks? Things are pretty quiet here at the moment and Harper can step up to do your duties. It’ll do him good to get away from cat-wrangling for a while.”

Fox had been getting itchy feet, truth be told. With the Vorbataille scandal put to bed there hadn’t been anyone trying to kill the count for a few months now. No one was indispensable and Harper could certainly take over as Armsman-commander, if push came to shove. Better he got some experience when the shit wasn’t hitting the fan, than trying to cope with a new role when it was. He nodded.

“Very well, sir. I could do that. I should take Walton with me. His flower-arranging classes aren’t going so well. He’ll get the chance to visit his mother, too. She’s giving him a hard time again.”

Zac Sheridan pricked up his ears at that one. “I see Rebekah, Ma Walton, I mean, quite often. She worries about Adrian, you know. She doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Fox knew exactly what went on _there_. Walton had told him. It was along the lines of the count’s mother and Simon Vorillyan before they got married, only not quite so exalted, of course.By the looks of things, the count knew all about it too. He just smiled.

“See if he’s amenable, Fox. The two of you should make a good team. I’ll leave all the arrangements to you. I wonder if Ma Walton would like the old family retainer’s job? It wouldn’t hurt to ask. We’ll miss you, though, Fox. Get the ladies settled and catch that bastard for me sooner rather than later. Let me know the plan once you’ve got everything worked out. First things first, though. It should be time for lunch.”

Now _that_ made everyone sit up and take notice.

 

Off shift that evening Fox joined Harper, Price, Driscoll and Walton in the gym to go through a workout. Price was beginning to leave them all in his wake, now that he’d got his fitness up to military standards. He was good for them. Fox knew he had to push himself just that bit harder whenever Price was around. The lad would deliberately never beat Walton at anything, though. He’d have to have a word to him about that. Hero-worship was all well and good, but it might get him killed. Price was almost twenty years younger than most of the rest of them, Devaux excepted. He _should_ be beating them at fitness and agility tests. What he lacked was experience, and quite possibly the killer instinct. It was hard to tell. It would be good if they never had to find out, though, but if they did, it had better be before Winterfair when Price was going to be sworn in to full armsman status.

Walton wasn’t too happy when he heard about babysitting little old ladies. They talked about it in between sit-ups and push-ups.

“So what’s the plan? We pick up a couple of eighty year old ladies from the shuttleport and whisk them off to New Sheffield?”

“No, the count wants to meet them first. We’d collect Admiral Waleska and his party, bring them back here, pick up Madame Waleska and take them all down to the District the next morning. Oh, I nearly forgot to mention it. Our Betan liaison is coming along for a couple of weeks.”

That made Walton stop in his tracks to turn and stare. “ _What_? We’d be in charge of the herm? Are we allowed to nail one foot to the floor?” He obviously still hadn’t forgotten chasing Sela and Byerly down the street in the snow when their ponies had bolted on them.

“I don’t _think_ so. At least we won’t be bored with it around. And don’t forget, babysitting beats flower arranging hands down.”

Walton’s whole face changed as a look of deep despair washed over him. “Oh bugger. Don’t remind me. I’m sure she sees me as a personal challenge.” He stopped again, obviously to contemplate another session of flower arranging with the count’s terrifying mother. “She’s a walking thesaurus, that woman. I’d swear she’s up to twenty different ways of saying ham-fisted. _I_ can’t help it if I have no talent for the _floral arts!_ It’s excruciating.”

Fox tried to cheer him up. “Plus we get to find the drug dealer and rearrange his face, with any luck. We aren’t bound by Municipal Guard rules of conduct.”

“True. New Sheffield here I come.” Walton went back to his reps. Fox could hear him muttering under his breath. “Awkward _,_ she told me. _Butterfingered, clumsy, graceless. Maladroit._ What the hell does maladroit _mean_ , anyway? _Unhandy, uncoordinated, bungling!_ Ha! I’d like to see her strip a mark eight plasma rifle.” By the time he got to the punching bag he’d worked up a good head of steam. Fox couldn’t decide if he was imagining a New Sheffield drug dealer or someone a lot closer to home. _“Inept. I’ll never be an expert._ Graceless, she called me. Me! _Graceless_. That one _hurt_. Try getting on a judo mat, m’lady. I’ll show you graceless.”

He’d die for her tomorrow, of course, but yes, Walton was going to be better off in New Sheffield for sure.

Before he went to bed, Fox stood and looked into his wardrobe. Three immaculate liveries, ready to go, with a matching spare in his locker in the ready room. A full dress livery, used for gala evenings or when the count went to The Residence or Vorhartung Castle. Two sets of combat kit, just in case. A full set of House blacks. Down one end he had a whole three civilian outfits, one suit and two more sets of casual pants and shirts. There were three sets of ship knits, workout gear, underwear and socks in his drawers, all navy blue or black. He was _boring_. If Walton asked him again what they were doing wrong, he would know. They’d had four hours between end of shift and lockdown, and what had they done? Gone to the gym then watched a shoot-em-up holovid they’d seen before. They were both of them in a rut. Dull. Uninteresting. Humdrum. Shit, if he kept this up he was going to cry. Fox slammed the wardrobe door and went to bed.

 

It was another week before they heard from Wally. The admiral had reached the orbital transfer station and was on the last leg home. It was late afternoon when Fox and Walton signed out the groundcar and drove to the shuttleport to pick them up.

“Do you suppose these ninety year old women will be jump-lagged?” Walton asked him. “They’ll have to be exhausted.”

Fox shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. You’re exaggerating. They can’t be ninety, for a start, even for Betans. That’s old enough to be your grandmother. The admiral didn’t give any special instructions, did he? It’s not like we’ve had to arrange for float chairs or anything like that.”

Walton grunted. “They’ll probably be happy to go straight to bed. They shouldn’t be much trouble tonight.”

Famous last words. As the passengers started to file out through the arrivals gate Fox kept a lookout for the admiral. He’d have to be dead not to notice the beautiful young woman towing her float pallet, looking very foreign and glamorous with her startling blue eyes and dark auburn hair. He had to be seeing things, though, when a second one followed her. And, wait one, that was the admiral with them! His cryptic reports suddenly became glaringly clear. Fox had to rub his eyes. He could tell by the look on the admiral’s face the old coot had enjoyed his little surprise. The Dunbar sisters were _stunning_. Betans aged differently, he knew. But these two couldn’t be a day over thirty, surely? It hurt his brains, trying to work out how to tell Fiona Artemis from Flora Selena. If they didn’t wear different clothes or use different perfume, it was going to be a nightmare trying to tell them apart. Perhaps they could barcode them, or something, and wear a wrist scanner. He could see out of the corner of his eye that Walton had only just remembered to close his mouth. It was almost possible to hear his jaws snap together.

One of the Dunbars waited impatiently for the formal introductions to end. She smiled brightly up at them both. “So, guys, where does a girl go to find a little nightlife round here?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Double Trouble time.

“First things first,” Admiral Waleska said. “Count Voralys is expecting us for dinner. You’ll want to settle in and find your bearings before you start tearing up the town.”

As they made their way out to the forecourt Fox nearly cannoned into one of the ladies, who had stopped short in the doorway and turned around to come back in. The momentum of the float pallet he towed behind him made it bounce off the back of his legs before he could put the brake on, pushing him forward into her. She squished quite delightfully and smelled like some sort of flowers. Not Escobaran moon flowers, though. He knew what they smelled like. He had to take hold of her round the waist to steady them both, but let go again as quickly as he’d grabbed.

“Beg pardon, ma’am! Is something wrong?”

She turned an uncertain face towards him and reached out to hold onto his arm again as if she was dizzy. “It’s all so…big. I’m not so sure…”

 _Of course_. He knew what the problem was. Some of the tourists had been hit like this, too. He should have thought of it in advance. “Is this your first time out in the fresh air without any protection? It’s really quite safe. We do it all the time here.”

Her smile was anything but sincere. “If you say so. I know I’m being silly.”

The other one had a death grip on Wally’s arm. Agoraphobia wasn’t something Betans would know much about if they hadn’t been off planet before. He motioned Walton over. “Go get the groundcar, please, and bring it to the door. We’ll wait just inside until all the luggage is loaded. That sky’s awfully big if you’re not used to it.”

Walton nodded. “Will do. I’ll only be two minutes.” He handed over the tether of the float pallet he’d been towing and disappeared into the stream of people.

The others moved to one side as the impatient crowds surged past them. Fox angled his body slightly and glowered. Tetchy passengers who would have rudely pushed into lesser mortals thought twice about arguing with a towering armsman and veered sharply away.

Miss Dunbar, whichever one it was, relaxed her hold a little. “Thank you. I’ll be all right in a minute, honestly. I knew it was going to be open like this. Knowing and finding out what that actually means are two very different things.”

Her accent sounded flat and drawling to his unaccustomed ears. It wasn’t unpleasant, just different. Everything about her was different. He laid his hand over hers where it rested on his arm and gave it a little squeeze of reassurance. She didn’t pull away.

Her sister spoke out. “Are you OK, Flo?” So it was Fiona clinging on to Admiral Waleska, asking the question, and this one was Flora.

“I _think_ so. That was so weird. It’s a bit like vertigo, only different. Barrayar is going to take some getting used to.”

Fiona had turned pale. “You got that right.”

They both looked quite shaken. The groundcar sighed to a halt outside so Fox handed Miss Flora over to the admiral’s protection and started ferrying the luggage out. Wally would know the best things to say to them to put them at ease. Once everything was all safely stowed in the capacious boot with more in the front alongside Walton he went back for the ladies. Dammit, he had no idea which was which again. This was ridiculous!

One of them took a deep breath. “I refuse to be defeated at the first hurdle. Come on, Fi, onwards and upwards.” _Flora_ took her sister’s hand and marched out into the open air. Fox had to admire her courage. The two of them stood for a moment or two, gazing round, but more particularly, _up_.

“I quite like it, actually. It’s easier the second time, don’t you think?”

It didn’t look like Fiona agreed with her at all, but she wasn’t going to look like a coward in front of her sister. She gamely held her ground until Fox stepped forward to hand them both into the ground car.

“Welcome to Vorbarr Sultana,” he said as the car eased into the stream of traffic. “The first part of the trip is pretty boring while we clear the industrial area, but we’ll be going past Vorhartung Castle and across the Star Bridge. We had rain in the hills last week, so the river is running high.”

“River? I’ve never seen a river. I’m Flora.” She smiled at him, taking pity on his crogglement. Something cracked just a little in his brain. Flora had the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen.

He tried to cover up his confusion. “So how do we tell you apart, ma’am, if you don’t mind my asking? It’s…not something I’ve had to do before. I’ve never met identical twins. Even clones aren’t always completely identical.”

The one called Fiona laughed at him. “We’re interchangeable. In uniform we’ve got used to people staring at our chests, to see the name badge, of course. And hey, it doesn’t hurt to stare. I’m doing a bit of that myself. Are all you Barrayarans so handsome?”

Fox cast a startled glance at the admiral, who just sat back in his corner and folded his arms, preparing to enjoy the show. Fox could feel a warmth start to creep up his neck. He shifted uneasily in his seat, lost for words. Before he could come up with anything that wouldn’t make him sound like a fool Flora shushed her sister.

“Didn’t you read _anything_ in that briefing dossier? Personal comments can be taken as intrusive, here. Leave the poor man alone. Even if he is gorgeous.”

Wally bit his lip. Fox wasn’t going to get any help there. What the hell. Just go with the flow.

“Thank you, Miss Flora, but you’ve got gorgeous all sewn up. The only thing different I can see about the two of you is your earring doesn’t have that second twist. Is that significant? I’ve heard Betan earrings are coded.”

“Flora’s a stick-in-the-mud.” Fiona tossed her head. “They both mean _serially monogamous heterosexual._ The added bit on mine is _currently open to negotiation._ How are your negotiating skills?”

Fox swallowed. Shit. What did he say to that? He wasn’t the only one to get a shock. The dismayed look on her sister’s face would have been funny under other circumstances. There was something just a little bit brittle about Fiona, though. It was like she was trying too hard, or something.

Admiral Waleska took pity on him at last. “Fox is working, Fiona. He’s not allowed to flirt on duty. We went through this, remember. There’s time for work, and time for play. You _both_ need to be off duty for conversations of that nature. And I do believe we’re just about to turn onto the Star Bridge. You’ll want to look out the canopy on this side to get the best view.”

Saved by the bridge. Fox relaxed back into his seat as the ladies craned their necks to see properly. The lights had just started to come on along the bluff, and the castle was framed by the red and yellow glow of the sunset. The river hurtled along under the bridge as it tossed and foamed around the rapids marking the upper limit of navigation. From the oohs and aahs the sisters were well impressed. Fancy never having seen a river before. There was one security concern he needed to find out about.

“Have you ladies learned to swim? I wouldn’t recommend the river here, but there are lots of pools, lakes and beaches on Barrayar.”

Flora dragged herself away from the view to shake her head at him. “Open water? We learned twenty-five years ago in a lap pool. I can’t say I’ve done anything since. I think we’d need more lessons. We don’t have costumes, though.”

“I’m sure something could be organised.” There was a swimming centre in New Sheffield. It might be worth thinking about. It might be very worth while thinking about, before the cold weather set in. In fact, thinking _all_ about it sounded like a very good idea. Swimming costumes. Hmm…Perhaps they could be colour coded.

There was a subtle, under-voiced conversation between the two of them when they at last pulled into the porte-cochère at Voralys House and Fox hopped out to hold the canopy open for them. He had to check the earring, but it was Flora who spoke to him.

“Look, we’re really embarrassed. We don’t have any Barrayaran cash with us yet. Can we catch you next time?”

He was missing something. “Pardon me, ma’am?”

She looked quite uncomfortable. “We’re very sorry. We can’t give you a tip.”

A tip? They wanted to give him a _tip_. “Oh, no ma’am! Armsmen don’t take tips. There’s absolutely no need to even think about it.”

“You don’t?”

“ _No_ _ma’am_. Not ever. Count Voralys would have our hides if we took money from guests, or other employees. It’s a very strict rule.”

She looked nonplussed again. There was probably going to be a lot of that going on. “So how do we say thank you, then?”

He couldn’t resist. “You just say _thank you_. It’s the same in Barrayaran. Thank you, Armsmen, or thank you, Fox and Walton.”

Her eyes twinkled. “If you’re sure. Thank you, Fox. We appreciate your help.”

“You’re very welcome, ma’am. I’ll take you on in to meet the count. Walton will make sure your cases go up to your rooms.”

She looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was listening and spoke to him in a low voice. “Is it really true that he’s the inspiration for _Lord Vordagger_? Dr Waleska said he might just be, and _A Barrayaran Lady_ is his stepdaughter but he’s got a shocking sense of humour when he’s off duty. He kept such a straight face we don’t know whether to believe a word he says.”

Wally’s sense of humour really was going to get him into trouble. Fiona looked at Fox wide-eyed as well, holding her breath for the answer.

“I can only give you facts. Countess Voralys is _A Barrayaran Lady._ She started writing the books before she met the count, but I really can’t say where she gets her inspiration from now. You can see what you think when you meet him. He’s very much taken, remember. Don’t go asking him how good he is at negotiating, unless it’s about your salary.”

Madame Waleska waited in the entry hall to greet her husband. While they exchanged hugs Fox stood politely to one side as the ladies oohed and aahed again at the wooden staircase and the impressive height of the ceiling.

Walton walked past him with two suitcases tucked under his arms and more in his hands. He raised an eyebrow and spoke sotto voce. “So how _are_ your negotiation skills, Fox?”

“You heard?”

“Every last word, _Gorgeous._ They remind me of the herm. Perhaps it’s just a Betan thing.”

“Yeah, I hope so. I sincerely hope so.” Or did he? Fox grinned to himself as he led the ladies towards the library. Just perhaps he ought to brush up on his negotiating skills. You never knew, did you? Of the two of them Miss Flora would be the one that he needed to talk to. He’d have to find out what _her_ earring really meant.

He held the door to the library open and the count rose to his feet. The smile of welcome on his face froze as Miss Flora followed her sister into the room. There was a startled silence broken only by a squeal of glee as Sela Thorne jumped up. “Oh, how wonderful! Welcome! Welcome to Barrayar.”

Fox managed to get a word in before it all turned into a rabble. “My lord count, on my left Medtech Flora Selena Dunbar. On my right, Medtech Fiona Artemis Dunbar.” And that was the best he could do to help the count sort them out. Sela rushed over and held out its hands to drag them into the room.

“I’m your Betan liaison. Call me Sela. This is just marvellous! Come and meet Count Ivan Vorpatril Voralys, and Countess Valeraine Vorfolse Voralys.”

Byerly Vorrutyer was here, too, Fox noticed, obviously to keep Sela in line. _Good luck_. That was going to be an impossible task. Fox left them to it, to go and fetch the refreshment trolley. There were a few people who were going to be in need of a stiff drink. Wally had really thrown a cat among the pigeons this time. He didn’t laugh until the door closed behind him. Just wait until tomorrow when Miss Marie got a look at the Dunbar twins.

 

Dinner was a lively affair, once the twins were assured no animals were harmed in its production. By mutual consent Fox and Walton both stayed after shift to help serve and clear away. Even just being flies on the wall, this had to be a much better way to spend the evening than a workout in the gym and a re-run holovid. Flora didn’t drink much alcohol but Fiona drank three glasses to her sister’s two, Fox noticed. It was going to be the little things that helped identify them, as he wouldn’t put it past them to swap earrings when the fancy took them. Trust Sela Thorne. It had already suggested doing just that.

Since Miss Marie had already been put to bed it really didn’t take long for the conversation to turn to the subject of Lord Vordagger, much to Lady Alys’s dismay, Fox noticed. He was getting good at reading her infinitesimal changes in expression. Walton probably was as well, considering the amount of time he’d spent with her lately.

Countess Raine good-naturedly answered a few of their questions. “No, Ivan wasn’t the original Lord Vordagger. I’d already started writing before I met him. He did rescue me from a dungeon, though. My book _Lord Vorperil’s Dungeon_ was vaguely based on it, but of course it was Lord Vordagger who was the prisoner that time.”

Byerly Vorrutyer had family business in mind. “Vorrutyer House’s dungeons are authentic to the Time of Isolation. They’re the only ones open to the public in Vorbarr Sultana. I’d volunteer to take you to see them myself, but my cousin the count can’t guarantee there won’t be spiders.” He threw his hands up in the air and gave a theatrical shudder.“I just don’t _do_ spiders. You can buy a nice line of genuine red wax candles in the gift shop, though. I don’t think you’ll have time tomorrow, but when you have a weekend off someone will bring you back to town, I’m sure.”

“Back off, By.” The count good-naturedly quashed his enthusiasm. “If it’s dungeons you want, ladies, you can see the actual real thing in New Sheffield. They’re under the District Administration building over there. It’s not open to the public as a rule but Fox and Walton can get you in now that the place has been repaired.”

“I think I’ll pass,” Flora said. “Thank you all the same, sir. I’d rather get down to work.”

The count smiled. “That’s good to hear. I’m giving Dr Waleska three days’ leave so my mother-in-law can remember who he is. Byerly has invited himself along tomorrow in his place to help you settle in, and Wally will join you all on Monday, ready to start work. It’ll take you both that long to find your feet. But what I do suggest you do tomorrow morning is go down to the kitchens and introduce yourselves to Ma Belka, who produced this marvellous dinner. Her husband, Darek, is going to be your first patient. The whole household is heading to New Sheffield for the harvest celebrations in Rotherhall, and he’ll stay behind when we return to begin his treatment. That’s two months away. Do you think you’ll be ready?”

Flora nodded. “It all depends on your ordering systems and the equipment you’ve already got available, but Dr Waleska has filled us in on most of it. We should be right.”

“Ivan.”

Fox felt Walton wince beside him. That implacable voice acted on him like the cats’ nails on the stone walls.

The count sounded resigned. “Yes, mamère. I’ll stop talking shop.” He watched the lift of her eyebrow. “And I won’t talk about Lord Vordagger, either. What were your impressions of the trip from Beta, ladies? How do you like wormhole travel?”

The count had been trained well… Fox wondered if it had been a bit like flower arranging.

 

Walton took the ladies up to their rooms as Fox lingered to go over the last minute alterations to the schedule with the count. Byerly Vorrutyer hadn’t been part of their original plans.

Count Voralys took one last look at the flimsy. “You still OK with this, Fox? The remit has changed quite a bit since we first talked about it.”

Was he still OK? It was hard to say. It was just possible he’d never be OK again. “Well, my lord, you know all those briefing notes we worked up for the Betan tourists, and for your new employees?”

The count looked suspicious. “Yes? What’s wrong with them?”

“Oh, nothing sir. I just got to thinking no one saw fit to work up a briefing for _us_.”

“Welcome to my world, Fox. I’ve been trying to deal with my aunt for years. She’s as Betan as they come. Come to think of it, they even share the red hair, sort of, although hers was much brighter, originally.”

He’d totally missed the point, and that was highly unlike the count. “Pardon me, sir, but I would hazard a guess you weren’t _attracted_ to your aunt.”

“Oh.” The other shoe hit the floor at last. “Oh. It’s like that, is it? I can quite see why, of course. If I wasn’t an old married man I’d have given you some competition.”

“Yes, but what do I _do_? It can’t be…I don’t know…ethical, or…or…don’t you object?”

“Me? Object? Betans are like steamrollers. They work hard and they play hard and don’t take to kindly to orders, from my experience. You’ll never see the number of the tram that hits you, though. The only thing _I’m_ worried about is you’ll get your heart broken. They’re only here for six months, and Betans, well, they don’t regard sex the way we do, you know. Nothing’s off limits as long as you both give your full consent. My advice always is, make ’em laugh. If they laugh you don’t die. As long as it’s off duty and it doesn’t interfere with any of your work, that is. I don’t want you dying laughing, and I still want that drug runner caught.”

“No sir, of course not.”

He’d started to leave the room when the count called him back. “Fox, you’re not thinking about both of them, are you? You’d be a braver man than I am if you were. They might be expecting something like that if they’re Lord Vordagger fans.”

Fox could feel heat rise in his face. “I can see I’ll have a lot to learn. It hadn’t even crossed my mind. Walton was fairly struck, too. That would even things up a bit.”

The count wiggled an eyebrow. “I’m sure it will be an education. I’ll want regular updates. Don’t forget—”

“Yes. My lord. Make ‘em laugh.”

“Make sure you do. I won’t see you in the morning. Enjoy your change of scene. You’ve earned it. Walton, eh? That’s going to be interesting. Can you honestly see Walton making anyone laugh?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are Betans in the House.

Flora followed her sister out of the room in the wake of Armsman Walton. They were so _striking_ , these armsmen. Tall, supremely fit, by the looks of them, and so full of energy. Fi was obviously fascinated by them.

 _Oh, who was she kidding?_ Flora thought back to Armsman Fox at the shuttleport, when she’d just about bounced off him. He was as hard as a rock and, well, _tall_. She just had to look at him to know he was a man she could trust. He’d let go of her like she was a hot potato when he could have taken advantage. He was nothing like that creep Leckarts. There was no denying it, she was pretty fascinated as well. No earrings, though. What if they were like the count, and well and truly partnered? Now there was a miserable thought.

Walton halted in the hallway near the foot of the stairs. “Armsman Devaux will be on duty by now. I should introduce you ladies to him. He’ll be patrolling the corridors tonight. It’s not a good idea to go wandering around after lockdown without letting him know.”

Fiona giggled. “That sounds ominous. What would he do if he caught us out of bounds? Shoot us?”

Walton didn’t smile. “That’s exactly what he’d do. Hopefully he’d use a stunner. That way misunderstandings can be sorted out afterwards. There are cameras on all the corridors, too. Not in your rooms, of course. You don’t have to worry about that.”

Flora looked at Fiona in consternation. What the hell had they got themselves into here? Walton spoke briefly into his comm and seconds later another armsman appeared out of a room near the main doors. He was shorter than Fox and Walton, younger, and a lot more wiry. Just as handsome, though, if not more so. Flora might have taken him for an Escobaran, if she didn’t know better.

“Miss Flora and Miss Fiona, this is Enzo Devaux. He’s our regular night duty armsman. He prefers it that way. His best friend’s a bat.”

Armsman Devaux cracked a huge smile and shook hands with both of them. Here was another one that was quite devastatingly fit and healthy. “I heard you were coming in tonight. I obviously didn’t get the full briefing, though.”

Walton shrugged. “Nobody did. It’s the Doc’s little joke. They’re not used to Barrayar yet, and you spent all that time on Beta. Perhaps you’ll be able to answer any questions they’ve got? The herm’s their official liaison, but you know what it’s like.”

Fiona stomped in where angels feared to tread. “There’s one thing you can tell us, Enzo. What do we do when people don’t wear earrings? Say we’re interested in someone. Do we just ask if they’re up for socialising, or what?”

 _Enzo_ bit his lip. “Strictly speaking, you should call me Devaux. Only my Ma and Da call me Enzo, but you can go right ahead. I quite like it. Give me a hint, and I can tell you if they’re taken or not.”

“We haven’t really met anyone, yet. Doctor Waleska is married, so is the count and Lady Alys, and Sela and Byerly are obviously a pair. What about you?”

He took it in his stride. “I’m not taken, but I’m not up for _socialising_ , being on night shift like this. I’ll get around to it one day. I tell you what, Walton here’s your man. No ties, no obligations. If you don’t fancy him you can try your luck with Armsman Commander Fox. It’s his birthday next week. You should all go party.”

Butter wouldn’t melt in Devaux’s mouth. Flora saw the look that passed between Walton and Devaux. It promised…something, when Walton could get him on his own. She had to repress a giggle.

Devaux prudently decided to retreat. “Anyway, I should get back to the ready room. I still have my checklist to do before first patrol. There’s a button by the door in your rooms, ladies. Walton will show you. It’ll alert me if you’re leaving the room. Motion alarms will bring me running if you leave your floor, so please don’t do that without telling me first.”

Walton stared after him for a few moments. Flora got the distinct impression Devaux had either paid off an old score, or had managed to get one up in an infinite game of _gotcha_. He turned back to the stairs without saying anything until they were nearly to the top of the flight.

“The internal alarms are turned off at 0530 when the kitchen staff come on. Has anyone said anything about breakfast to you?”

Fiona shook her head. “The count did say we should meet Ma Belka. She’s the cook, isn’t she? Does the poor thing have to work the dinner shift and breakfast as well?”

He looked vaguely offended. “No, the count’s not a slave driver. She makes up the spiced breads and suchlike in the afternoon and once they’ve proved they go in the chiller overnight. The breakfast shift cooks them and the groats and they do most of the prep for the day, too. If you haven’t been invited to breakfast with the family the off duty armsmen and regular staff eat at 0700, in the kitchen meals area. It’s mostly fend for yourself. You’d be very welcome.”

As he turned at the top landing to take them along the corridor, Flora saw her sister tense suddenly. Fiona put her hand out to stop him. “When did you get burned?”

Walton looked surprised for a moment, then self-consciously put a hand up to the back of his neck. “Oh, that. Can you still see it? Just before I was sworn in I had an argument with the fireplace in the library and lost. It’s no big deal. It was me or Miss Marie, and she was six at the time. I wasn’t going to let _her_ burn now, was I? One of those damned cats of hers tripped her up.”

Fiona reached out to turn his head to one side. “Let me see. How long ago was this?”

Flora watched a look of alarm flash in and out again through Walton’s eyes as her sister’s fingers touched his jaw, but he stood still while she probed the skin near his hairline. He must have decided to humour the Betans.

“It was nearly a year ago. I was treated straight away. They didn’t even keep me overnight in the hospital. I was fine in a week.”

“Fine? Let me be the judge of that. Didn’t they give you any gamma argulase?”

“I don’t think so. Should they have?”

Fiona looked at Flora and sighed. “I can see why the count wanted us. Yes, Walton, somebody should have given you some ointment. I’ll just bet Lady Alys and the countess have some in their beauty boxes. It’s an enzyme used to stimulate a specific skin reaction. Wait right here and I’ll rustle some up for you.”

She started to walk off but hadn’t gone two steps before she stopped and turned around, looking foolish. “Er, if you’ll show me where my room is, of course.”

Flora laughed out loud. “You should see your face, Fi. You can’t order Walton around like you own the place. We’re not on Beta now.”

Fiona followed Walton along the corridor. “That’s becoming more and more obvious by the minute! No gamma argulase. Can you imagine?”

She plonked Walton down on the chair by the dressing table in the little guest room she’d been allotted. “Sit. Take your shirt off.”

Either all his Winterfairs had come at once or it was his own worst nightmare. Flora had to turn away to hide her giggles. Walton’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He looked like he wanted to bolt.

“ _What_? No ma’am. I can’t do that.”

Flora took pity on him. “Just undo the top couple of buttons then,so we can get a look at your neck. Fiona wants to assess your scarring properly.”

He started to stand up but Fiona pushed him down again. “Honestly. Barrayarans! We haven’t got any designs on your virtue. Not _yet,_ anyway _._ We’ll tell you when we do. Let me see if we can help.”

Flora used her best professional voice. “I can see more scarring on his right hand, Fiona. Just unbutton the cuff on that side, too, Walton. Here, let me help.”

Flora sorted out the floundering armsman while Fiona found her professional kit. She snapped on a pair of exam gloves, found a swab and some antiseptic lotion and cleaned him up while he sat there, obviously trying to speak without any words coming out of his mouth. Once she was satisfied she found a tube of ointment, changed her gloves and got Flora to squeeze out a measured dose onto her fingers. With gentle care she applied it to his neck. From where she was standing Flora could see him close his eyes and swallow hard. With another dose applied to his hand Fiona at last took pity on him.

“Was there anywhere else?”

The look of alarm on his face deepened markedly. He shook his head. “No, ma’am.” It was the first thing he’d said in five minutes.

“I hope not. Here, take the tube. Just that much on each scar, about a centimetre, night and morning. It should only take three days. Make sure you do what you’re told. I’ll be checking up.”

Walton just about ran to the door. “This here is the button Devaux told you about. Don’t be afraid to push it, especially if you want to go to the bath at the end of the corridor. The rooms only have showers. Your room is right this way, Miss Flora.”

Fiona stood in her door a few minutes later and watched him flee down the corridor once he’d got her sister settled. Flora cocked an eyebrow at her in a silent question. Fiona nodded.

“Mine, I think. You can have the other one.”

Flora considered. Walton was seriously cute for a savage Barrayaran killer, but the spark wasn’t there the way it obviously was for Fiona. She considered some more. _Fox_. Hmm. Maybe. Yes, just maybe. She nodded back to her sister. “Suits me.”

 

Flora didn’t wake up until past 0600, so she didn’t have to worry about setting off alarms. Fiona hadn’t found the bath yet, so she made the most of it and wallowed in hot water up to her neck for a good ten minutes. There was still no movement from the other bedroom so she took her time selecting what to wear. It had been fun yesterday, dressing in identical Betan sarongs, but they’d had their money’s worth out of that joke. She could hear Fiona in the bath by the time she’d finished and slipped into her sister’s bedroom to wait for her. It was time to debrief, now that they’d had a good night’s rest.

Fiona had forgotten the local rules. She walked back into her bedroom in just the sarong with a towel round her hair.

“For Pete’s sake, Fi, do you want to give these guys a heart attack? You can’t wander round the corridors looking like that! I hope that cute night duty armsman has turned off the surveillance cameras.”

“Oh.” Fiona looked embarrassed for a moment. “Oh, well, someone got a thrill if they haven’t. I won’t do it again.” She rummaged in her case and pulled out trousers and a tunic top. “This is as respectable as I do. Will it pass?”

“Yes, that looks fine. Let’s go find some breakfast.”

It took Fiona five more minutes to sort her hair out, so it was nearly 0700 by the time they wandered down. The house had woken up, with the sounds of various voices and cleaning machines on the ground floor. There was an armsman at the front door, and one that looked like an armsman, but not quite, with no insignia on his uniform. He had flaming red hair and a young girl firmly attached to one of his hands.

“I don’t know where he’s gone, Price. Come and look. He was right here a minute ago. Princess is still—oh! How beautiful!”

Whoever she was she had caught sight of the pair of them coming down the stairs. “Price, look at the beautiful ladies!”

“Miss Marie, you know what your Da’s told you!”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts.” The young man bowed to both of them. “Good morning. ladies. You must be Medtechs Dunbar and Dunbar. I’m Price, and this is Miss Marie Watson Voralys.”

The little girl actually dropped into a curtsey. “Good morning. You’re so pretty! Have you seen my cat?”

They’d reached the bottom of the stairs by this time. Fiona answered first. “Good morning, Miss Marie. No, I’m afraid not.”

“You didn’t leave your doors open did you? Prince Xav likes to eat things if he gets into your bedroom.”

Flora exchanged a startled glance with her sister. “Er, no. I don’t think we did, did we?”

“I’m not sure.” Fiona glanced up the stairs. “Perhaps I should go check.”

Price spoke into his wrist comm. “Harper, check the guest corridor. He might have got into one of the bedrooms there.” He cast a harried expression at the Dunbars. “Armsman Harper is up there already. He’s got the knack of wrangling Prince Xav down to a fine art. I don’t know what I’m going to do once it’s all up to me.”

The little girl tugged at his hand again. “You’ll be fine, Price. Prince Xav likes _you_.”

There was a yowl from up the stairs. A few moments later another armsman, just as spectacular as all the rest, appeared with a striped grey cat firmly gripped by the scruff of his neck. He held it well away from his face.

“Good morning, ladies. I’ll be right with you.” He handed the cat off to the little girl. “Now you put Prince Xav in his run where he belongs, Miss Marie, and Price,” he gave him a menacing stare, “ _don’t_ be letting him go again.”

Price and Marie disappeared off down a corridor. Harper shook his head as he watched them go, then turned back. “Breakfast, is it? I need a shot of maple mead, myself, but coffee will have to do.”

Harper led them off past the ready room where Devaux had disappeared the previous evening and down into a spacious kitchen. The smells would have told them what it was before ever they saw it. There was a huge _wooden_ table, of all miraculous things, with a scrubbed top, taking up all the space at one end, separated by island benches from the business end, with its gleaming ranges and all manner of appliances and storage cupboards.

There were several men seated round the table. Flora recognised Fox and Walton, and there was Devaux, just come off shift by the look of him. He kept his face expressionless.

“Enjoy your bath this morning, ladies? I hope you slept well.”

Well, that answered their question. Devaux still had his eyesight, thank goodness. Flora slipped into the chair held for her by Fox and waited for Fiona to say something. She just smiled up at Devaux as he seated her.

“Yes, thank you. It was marvellous.”

“Tea or coffee?” Walton held up two carafes.

Flora gave them all the clue they were looking for, as both of them had their hair over their ears today. “Tea for me in the morning, please. Fiona usually has coffee.”

There was a hush as they were served. Flora thanked Walton for her tea and Devaux passed the basket of spiced bread. “I thought you said last night it was fend for yourself at breakfast time? Nobody needs to wait on us, you know.”

“It’s just habit.” Walton slid back into his seat and inspected his coffee very carefully, not catching anyone’s eye.

Fox broke the silence. “Walton was just telling us how you gave him some burn cream last night. I don’t think any of us realised there was more treatment he could have had.”

“It’s fairly common on Beta now. Although I think it just came out of development a couple of years ago. It was produced for the cosmetics industry, actually. It was just by luck it was found to be very beneficial for burns scarring.”

“Walton’s a lucky lad.” _Sarmiento_ , this one’s name badge said. Where did the count find all these glorious men? Flora’s head was just about swimming with all the testosterone in the air. Sarmiento wasn’t backwards about coming forwards. No one could call _him_ shy. He was eyeing her off like something in the zoo. He gave Walton a sly glance. “What did you think about the burn on his thigh?”

Ooh, Walton had fibbed. How ridiculous to be shy like that. A little devil prompted her to teach him a lesson. She tried to sound innocent. “Oh, we weren’t looking at his _thigh_ , were we, Fi?”

Flora heard a coughing sound. Sarmiento looked like he wished he hadn’t started the conversation in the first place, and Fox was ready to choke.

They were interrupted as another couple came into the kitchen. Flora took one look and nearly fell off her chair as Fiona sucked in a deep breath beside her. All desire to laugh disappeared in a flash. The effort it took not to react was huge. _The poor man!_ There was no mistaking who this was, their patient Darek Belka. His wife gave them a smile. “Oh, good morning! You’re the ladies from Beta. I’m so very glad you’ve come. My Darek has been waiting for his treatment for far too long.” Tears sprang to her eyes, but she refused to succumb to them. She’d probably cried buckets of tears since this happened.

Flora shook hands. “I’m Flora, this is Fiona. Thank you for the wonderful dinner we had last night. It was the best meal we’ve had since we left Beta. Before, in fact.”

Flora kept talking to Olga and Darek, as she was told to call them, while she knew Fiona was taking in the full measure of Darek’s injuries. That he should have been left looking like that was a scandal, even if he was pain free now, as Dr Waleska had assured them he was. The armsmen seemed to melt out of the room, taking the kitchen staff with them. The four of them were left alone to sit at the table.

“I’m so very sorry to see you’ve had such an appalling injury,” Flora said as matter-of-factly as she could. “You can rest assured Fiona and I are going to give you the best of care from now on. What’s been done already? Have you had your scans for the substrate mask yet? Any follicle harvesting for your scalp? Someone should be growing that for you by now.”

Olga spoke for him. “He’s on the _list_.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. “There’s still a six months’ wait for the first scan session, so they told him a week gone. No one’s mentioned follicle harvesting.”

Fiona’s breath hissed in. Flora couldn’t look at her. “We’ll see about that. I need to talk to the count. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

Darek managed to smile with half of his face. “Don’t say that too loudly round here.”

“Oh, yes. We met Prince Xav. What you can be doing in the meantime is find us as many holos, full face and profile, as you can, from before. Every little helps us to get it right when you have your graft.”

Fiona chimed in for the first time. “We’ll get that hand of yours right, too. How much use do you have of those fingers?”

He shrugged. “Not much. I can do most things I need to with one hand, though.”

Flora felt an anger, no, a rage, boiling up. “Not good enough. Not _nearly_ good enough! I’m so angry for you, Darek! This is going to get _sorted_.”

Armsman Fox poked his head back into the kitchen. “Are you nearly ready, ladies? The lightflyer is booked for 0800 hours.”

Flora looked from Fox to Darek Belka to his wife and back again. Rising to her feet, she folded her arms and tapped one foot. “Sorry, Armsman Fox, we’re not going anywhere until we find a body scanner. You’d better take me up to see the count.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a disturbance in the house...

Twenty minutes later Count Ivan Vorpatril Voralys looked up in surprise when Armsman Fox entered the blue saloon where the family was at breakfast. “Fox? Are you still here? I thought you’d be well on your way to New Sheffield by now. Is something wrong?”

Fox groaned. It was just his luck that this was one of the few days that Lady Alys and Simon Vorillyan had made it downstairs. The Council of Counts was in session today and the count looked very formal in his second best House uniform. He was going to be a very busy man.

“I’m very sorry, my lord count. Medtech Dunbar is…er…on the warpath. She has demanded to speak to you before she goes anywhere.”

The normally very easygoing count looked anything but as he heard the news. “ _Demanded?_ I take it she’s not laughing. I haven’t got the time to see her today! What in three worlds is going on?”

Fox could only offer a miserable, “no, sir, she’s not laughing.”

“I thought we were quite clear about their timetable. My employees don’t usually make _demands_ on my time. Which one is it, anyway?”

“Miss Flora, sir. She’s been talking to the Belkas. She is _not_ a happy lady.”

The door behind him banged open. Damn Walton! Couldn’t he keep one little bitty lady like that under control? He didn’t even bother to turn around. He just sighed instead. “Medtech Dunbar, sir.”

Lady Alys radiated disapproval like the homing beacon at the shuttleport. Simon Vorillyan half-rose from his chair to shield her until he realised the young lady was not armed in any way. The countess rolled her eyes at her husband as if to say _this was your idea, deal with it._ Fox rather wished the floor would open up and swallow him.

“I cannot believe that poor man has been left in that disgraceful state! It’s…it’s despicable.” Flora tried to duck around Fox. She could move faster than he would have believed possible. He only just grabbed her with one arm round her waist as she surged forwards. Her chest heaved in outrage and her fists clenched at her sides as her feet left the floor.

“Let go of me!”

The count, to give him credit, tried to diffuse the situation. “Good morning, Medtech. I’m sorry to see you’re so distressed.”

Flora struggled to free herself. “Distressed? I’m _furious!_ How could you let this happen?”

Fox just shuddered. She was tough. Fury gave her unexpected strength and he had to tighten his grip to the point where it must have hurt. Simon Vorillyan’s expression was very odd. Lady Alys’ body language had changed, though. She’d relaxed completely. She almost seemed _amused_. She laid a hand on her husband’s arm and smiled. Whatever the message was that passed between them had the ex-ImpSec chief sitting back in his chair, too.

The count kept the pleasant expression on his face but his body language told Fox all he needed to know. He wasn’t relaxed. He was just as furious as the red-haired termagant seething in front of him. His voice was very soft and even as he spoke.

“It may have escaped your notice, _Medtech_ , but I have gone to a great deal of trouble and expense to secure all the help it’s in my power to provide to the Belkas.”

Either she’d realised the futility of struggling or she’d paused to recoup her strength for another effort. She stood still long enough to talk. “It’s not good enough! He needs a body scanner and he needed it six months ago. How can there only be two of them available in this whole city? And one of them’s out of _order_!”

She had tears in her eyes as her voice rose dangerously. As unobtrusively as he could Fox drew his stunner. If she tried again, he _was_ going to subdue her properly. The count flicked him a tiny frown and a shake of the head. _Not yet_.

There were noises from the hall outside. He could hear Walton’s voice, and a woman’s, raised in anger. Walton had _better_ hold on to the other one. After a few seconds the noise died away. Thank the stars Walton had won the bout. One of them in here was bad enough.

The count continued. “I take it your sister agrees with you. I’m sorry Dr Waleska isn’t here to explain things. What is it exactly that you need? I’ll have to order one.”

Flora had calmed down, marginally. She dashed the tears out of her eyes. “That won’t do any good. They have to come from Escobar. It’ll take months. It’ll take _me_ weeks to work up the substrate mask, and then we have to grow the skin before Dr Wrachmann can even think of doing the grafts.”

“It’s the best I can offer.” Count Voralys glanced at his chrono. “I can’t be late over this. Is Escobar the only place to buy one of these…what are they?”

“A Mark III Body Contour mapper.”

Lady Alys pursed her lips. “Ivan, you get along. Give my compliments to dear Gregor and thank him for the holos. The Crown Prince is just _darling_ in his little replicator. Leave things with me. I _may_ be able to come up with something Medtech Dunbar can use.”

“You, Mamère?” He sounded incredulous but he was too harassed to argue. He swallowed the last of his coffee, kissed his wife and hurried off. “Someone tell Harper to have the ground car at the door in five.” He waved in Flora’s direction. “And Fox… _sort this out_!”

Fox waited for the wrath of the gods to fall around his ears, but Lady Alys surprised him yet again as she spoke to Flora. “I do understand your agitation, my dear, but really, you must never disturb gentlemen over their breakfast. There is nothing more fatal. Come with me to my dressing room. Fox, let her go, and could you please ask Walton to escort the other Miss Dunbar to me there? Simon will keep me company.”

It was code for her husband to take on the job of bodyguard. Fox checked for the assent from Simon Vorillyan before letting her go.

“Pig!” Flora shoved him hard and stepped away but didn’t make any other threatening moves. If looks could kill, though, someone would be calling for a body bag. He left them to it and hurried out to the entrance hall where he was just in time to man the front door for the count, accompanied by Harper, as he took his place in the groundcar with Sarmiento driving. The count gave him a filthy look.

“I do _not_ want to see those ladies still here when I get home, Fox, and I do not want to have to call Wally back from Bonsanklar to deal with them. Is that quite understood?”

“Absolutely, my lord count. I can only apologise. The shock of Belka’s injuries affected them very deeply. There was no way I could argue them down. I did try. She…Medtech Dunbar… pretended she was going to wait while I spoke to you.”

The count didn’t want any excuses. “Just see to it.” He gave the nod and the ground car drove off.

Fox took a deep breath as he returned inside. There were muffled noises from the ready room. So that’s where they’d gone. It was probably time to go rescue Walton.

The harried armsman turned around as the door opened. A look of profound relief crossed his features when he saw Fox. He’d been standing with his back to the door, arms folded, blocking the exit, as the storm raged around him. Luckily there wasn’t too much in the way of loose items she could actually throw in the ready room, and Walton was good at dodging. The arms locker was just that. Locked.

There was a tirade of protest as soon as Fiona saw another target. “Let me out! Let me out right now! How dare you hold me against my will like this? Where’s my sister? She’d better not be hurt. You’re all monsters! Why did we ever leave Beta? This place is just barbaric!”

“That’s enough. Keep quiet.”

Fiona ignored Fox’s order. “You’re just as bad as he is. Didn’t you hear me? Let me out!”

Fox’s pent up frustration let rip. The bellow would have done a drill sergeant proud. “I said, that’s enough! Sit!” He pointed to a chair that hadn’t been overturned. Even Walton jumped to attention.

“This is no way to behave. Control yourself. _When_ you are able to act with some dignity, Lady Alys would like you to join her in her dressing room. Your sister is already there. Walton will take you. _If_ he’s still able.”

“He can keep his filthy hands _off_ me.”

“I said, that’s enough. I can’t believe Walton didn’t stun you and have done. He was well within his rights to do even worse. You cannot be aggressive anywhere near a Count of Barrayar. It’s his _job_ to prevent people like you approaching the count.”

Fiona sounded like she was on the verge of hysteria. “People like me? What do you _mean_ , people like me? _I’m_ the civilised one around here. You can’t go around manhandling people like this! _He—”_ She pointed at Walton and spluttered. “He picked me up and carried me in here. That’s assault.”

“No, it’s not, it’s removing a direct threat, and yes, we most certainly can. I’m talking about security risks. Are you still a security risk?”

Fiona folded into the chair. Perhaps she’d suddenly realised she was very far from home and that two very angry armsmen were towering over her. “No.”

“Good.” Fox glowered some more, then took a deep breath. “You OK, Walton?”

Walton ran his hand over his face and bent down to feel his shin. “Nothing a tourniquet and an amputation won’t fix. Those boots are lethal.”

Fiona bit her lip. All the fight had gone out of her. She looked very small, crouched on the chair. “Oh, I stamped on you. I’m so sorry.”

Walton was barely containing his own anger. “You did. _And_ kicked me in the shins. _And_ tried to claw my eyes out. If I’d been any slower that knee of yours would have severely damaged my…pride.”

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Damn right you shouldn’t.”

Fox allowed his anger to simmer for a moment or two longer before he relented. “Are _you_ hurt? Do you need any first aid?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“So, in actual fact, Walton is the only one who has been assaulted. There are very serious penalties concerning assaults on armsmen. Do you want to take matters any further, Walton?”

He looked like he wanted to. He looked like he wanted to spit. “That won’t be necessary.”

Fox didn’t let Fiona off the hook straight away. “You just sit there and think about that for a moment. Your second day on Barrayar could have ended up with you in a jail cell.”

Her eyes looked huge in her pale face. He took a deep breath. “We’ll forget about it. Do _not_ let it happen again. We’ve made lots of allowances because of the cultural differences, but _not_ when it comes to the count’s safety, and most definitely not when you are _guests_ in his _House_. What were you thinking? Please make sure your sister understands, too, although I should think Lady Alys has explained the situation by now. Walton, could you take Miss Fiona up, please?”

Walton held the door open. Fiona gave him as wide a berth as she could manage, walking past with her nose in the air. Apart from a glare, she said nothing. It was eloquent enough.

Fox sighed as he was left in peace. So much for honing his negotiating skills. _Yuri’s snot_ but they were a feisty pair. He’d have as much chance with either of the sisters now as a snowflake facing a plasma beam. Less, probably. Did he still want a chance, after that performance? He thought of Flora, struggling in his arm. _Hell, yes_.

He straightened the furniture and set the room to rights. There was a smashed coffee cup on the floor and a long stain down the wall above it. He fetched the cleaner from the utility cupboard and set to work. The room looked close to normal by the time Walton returned. He went to the first aid locker and cracked a cold pack for his shin. They just looked at each other. There were no words.

His wrist comm pinged. Armsman Kosa, who normally acted as valet, had taken over door duty with the count out of the house and the other two busy. “Byerly Vorrutyer and Sela Thorne are here, Fox. According to your briefing timetable they’re only two hours late.”

“Show them in. It really doesn’t matter. The ladies aren’t ready yet.”

 

The total silence was fraught with tension as the flyer made its way to New Sheffield. Fox and Walton sat facing each other on one side of the cabin, with Byerly and Sela next to them in the middle seats and Flora and Fiona pressed as far into the other corners as they could get. Even Sela had given up trying to make polite conversation after all it had received for a good thirty minutes were monosyllabic responses. Armsman Driscoll had been detailed to fly them all down to New Sheffield. He hadn’t had a civil word out of the Betans, either.

They dropped into the landing area on the top of the District administration building. Fox and Walton left the rest of them to their own devices and turned to help Driscoll unload all the luggage and stack it onto a float pallet. Once they were clear he bade them all a cheerful farewell and powered off. Sela took the lead when it became obvious no one else was going to offer any conversation.

“It’s only a short walk across the town square to the Dower House. You’ll love it, ladies. It’s three hundred years old, built in the bloody centuries before the Time of Isolation ended. Fortunately it has been retrofitted with enough modern conveniences to make it comfortable. Would you like to lead the way, Armsman?”

It looked hopefully at Fox, who nodded. He wasn’t furious with Sela Thorne, plus he had standards. “Certainly, honourable herm. We’ll escort you there, then Walton and I have to report in to the Municipal Guard headquarters. You’ve got the comm if you need us for anything. We’ll see you at dinner time.”

Walton led the way to the lift, ushered them all in then took the float pallet over to the freight tube. He reached the main lobby almost at the same time as the rest of them. Sela chatted on as they walked across the square, pointing out various landmarks as they went. There was a ripple of reaction from the townspeople as they walked along, although no one approached them directly. Byerly Vorrutyer stuck his head into _The Tea Kettle_ café on the way past to say hello to the proprietor.

“Hello, Mrs Percy. We’re back. You don’t by any chance have some anti-freeze stashed away under your counter, do you?”

She hurried forwards to say hello. “Vorrutyer! How wonderful to see you. And Sela as well. Oh, and _armsmen._ ” She dropped a curtsey to Fox and Walton, clearly impressed. “Good afternoon, Armsmen. Is the count expected?”

“No ma’am. We’re here to do some work for him. This is Medtech Flora Dunbar and Medtech Fiona Dunbar. They’re here for a project at the District Hospital.”

Mrs Percy shook hands. “How wonderful. Welcome to New Sheffield. I hope you like it here. Are you staying for lunch?”

It finally dawned on her what Vorrutyer had said and she turned back to him. “Anti-freeze? What would you be wanting that for, sir?”

“Never mind. It probably wouldn’t do any good anyway. We’re expected at the Dower House for lunch and we’re horribly late already. We can’t linger. I’ll be back later, or failing that, tomorrow, Mrs Percy.”

She waved them on their way. Vorrutyer’s tactic seemed to have done the trick though, as Flora volunteered her first sentence in two hours. “She seems like a very nice lady.”

Sela agreed with her. “Yes, indeed. She’s quite used to outlandish people like me. We worked here for several weeks, over Winterfair. She’s never at a loss for hot food or drinks. She’ll have some vegetarian or vat protein options, too. Remember you’ll need to ask for those wherever you go, or you’ll get the animal version as standard.”

Fiona shuddered. _She_ hadn’t recovered from the events of the morning, yet. “What do you expect, from barbarians? They probably eat their _children_.”

Sela’s eyebrows shot up somewhere near its hairline but it didn’t add any more fuel to the fire. “Let’s go and find our lunch. We’ll all feel better after that.”

Fiona kicked at a loose fragment of a paving stone in front of her and muttered. “You speak for yourself.”

 

Walton’s mother had taken on the job of cook housekeeper. She looked absolutely delighted with the appointment, too. Walton disappeared, nearly bent double into a smothering hug. “Oh, Adrian! Isn’t this wonderful? I’ll get to see you every day, and these lovely ladies, too. You’re so welcome. I’m sure you’ll all be great friends in no time.” She beamed at the twins over his shoulder as she ruthlessly pressed his head into her ample bosom. “My Adrian needs to meet some ladies, I keep telling him. I’ve made a nice vat lamb hot pot for lunch. It only improves with keeping. You all get settled in and I’ll serve it when you’re ready.”

Fox felt the first stab of amusement that day. Walton looked like he’d swallowed a pillow. _Stuffed_ didn’t begin to describe it. He prised himself out of her arms. “We can’t stay for lunch, Ma. Fox and I are late already. We have to see Commander Sheridan.”

She looked disappointed. “Oh, that’s such a shame. Give my love to Zac. I’ll keep yours hot for you, shall I? Will you be back soon?”

“No, Ma, I don’t think we’ll be back until dinner time, if then.”

The two of them finally made their escape. Walton looked back over his shoulder in high dudgeon as they walked down the street. “ _Give my love to Zac,_ indeed. I don’t _think_ so, Fox. It would be a bit superfluous. My Da’s not been dead two years. She’s only just out of her blacks. It’s…it’s…”

“It’s none of our business. We’ve got work to do. What _we_ need to do is to find something we can thump. I hope it’s not just in the gym, either.”

Walton smacked a fist into his palm, much to the dismay of a passing tradesman, who scurried off in alarm. Memories of Vorclarence’s goon squads had probably given him a most unwelcome flashback. “You’re right. It’s time to kick butt.”

 

 

Flora noticed Byerly Vorrutyer watching her over lunch. He was such a strange man. His sense of humour was absolutely vile, but he stopped short of being totally malicious, she had noticed at dinner. Was that just last night? It was hard to remember back that far after everything that had happened since. She put up with his scrutiny for a few minutes, but there was something so quizzical about his expression that it rattled her, as if she hadn’t been rattled enough already today.

“What is it?”

Byerly glanced at Sela before he replied. “You’re going to have to tell us sooner or later, you know. What did you do?”

“What did _I_ do?” Ask that…that—”

“Armsman? Sworn protector of the count, even unto death?”

“ _Death_?”

“Yes, death. It’s a very, very significant, almost sacred, you could say, relationship. I don’t think Fox or Walton would be too precious about their own dignity, but I really hope you didn’t do anything silly where the count was concerned.”

Something quivered in Flora’s stomach. “I…er…I may have.”

Byerly’s eyelids fluttered shut. When they opened again he looked directly at her. “You didn’t threaten him physical harm, did you?”

“No, I wouldn’t have hurt him. We aren’t violent.”

Fiona’s voice sounded strained. “I kicked Armsman Walton, and stamped on his foot, among other things.”

“Oh dear heaven. And you’re not in jail? Whatever did they do to _you_ to cause that?”

“They wouldn’t let us see the count.” It sounded very silly now.

Even Sela coughed at that. “They wouldn’t let you see the count, so you _attacked_ one of them? You saw how Mrs Percy was with them just now. People _respect_ armsmen round here.” The incredulity in its voice started to hammer home the reality of the mistake they’d made.

Flora shifted in her seat. “It wasn’t like that. Fox went in to see Count Voralys. I saw my chance and dodged past Walton into the breakfast room, but he caught Fiona. He picked her right up off the floor. No wonder she kicked him.”

Byerly rested his head in his hands. “He could have broken her neck and no one would have said a word, you do realise. Then what happened?”

“Fox caught me before I could get too close. He nearly broke my ribs! Count Voralys spoke to me. He was very polite, but he wasn’t happy.”

“I can well imagine. What was all this about, anyway?”

“That poor man with the burns. It’s absolutely scandalous the way he’s been treated. I wanted to get him help.”

“But that’s exactly what the count’s been trying to do! He’s spending enormous amounts of money getting this burns centre up and running, and all for Belka’s sake. You’d have to know Ivan Vorpatril well to realise the lengths he’s gone to. He even stood up in the Council of Counts and criticised the Imperial Military Hospital. He made waves. He _drew attention_ to himself over this. That’s _huge_.”

There was silence for a while. Fiona shrugged at last. “Well, it’s done now.” She bit her lip and risked a glance at Fiona, who stifled a nervous giggle. “Have you heard of someone called Sergeant Bothari?”

It was Byerly’s turn to look croggled. “Bothari? He’s a legend. Where did you hear about him?”

“Lady Alys mentioned him.”

“ _Lady Alys_? She was there?”

She nodded. “Yes, when she took me upstairs she said I reminded her of her first husband’s cousin’s wife, and the way Sergeant Bothari had to restrain _her_ from attacking another count. Simon Vorillyan agreed with her. I can’t remember who he was, though.”

His voice came faintly to her ears, little more than a whisper. “Vorkosigan. It was General Count Piotr Vorkosigan. You do know to whom she was referring, don’t you?”

They both of them shook their heads. “No. No idea.”

Sela giggled. Byerly groaned and shook his head in disbelief. “Her first husband was Lord Padma Vorpatril. He was killed in the Pretender’s War and Sergeant Bothari actually delivered Lord Ivan when they were all in hiding. Padma Vorpatril’s cousin is Aral Vorkosigan. You may have heard of _him_?”

Flora sipped at her glass of water. “Oh, yes. I’ve heard of him. Everybody has, on Beta. Oh! You mean…you mean she thought I was like _Cordelia Naismith_?”

“The Vicereine of Sergyar. The same one. What else did Lady Alys say?”

“She solved everything. I had no idea. She was so kind. She’s got a _body scanner_ in her dressing room. Well, not exactly, not a medical one, but the next best thing. There are only two medical contour scanners in the whole city and she’s got an almost identical model for her _clothes_.”

“Lady Alys is still the arbiter of fashion in Vorbarr Sultana. If anyone was going to have her figure measured to the last micro-metre it would be her.”

“Well, It’s got this hat option, of all things. Hats. Can you believe that? We don’t wear hats on Beta so the thought of using one never even entered our heads. It’s all to do with what hat suits what shape of face, apparently. The detail is incredible. I got over three hundred parameters off Darek in less than half an hour. It’s _exact_. I can start his mask modelling tomorrow.”

“Hmm, maybe. What you _do_ have to do, and before tomorrow, is mend fences with Fox and Walton. You really have to apologise.”

Fiona bit her finger and sighed. “I think I may have crossed the line there. I don’t see how Walton’s ever going to forgive me. I threw a cup of coffee at him, too.”

Sela furrowed its beautiful brow, thinking. “The only thing you can do is say sorry. Write a letter of apology to Count Voralys, and grovel to his men, if you have to. He could can this whole project with a word, if he’s still angry.”

“Grovel?”

Byerly agreed. “Oh yes. Abjectly. Fall on your knees. Bow and scrape. Fawn all over them.” He made a decision. “Finish your lunch. We need to go buy a cake. That should do the trick. I know just the place.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fox and Walton let off a bit of steam...literally

It was nice to be treated with a bit of deference, Fox decided. Not that he _expected_ it, exactly, but it was bloody hard work being an armsman, and there were only ever a maximum of twelve hundred of them at any one time, usually less, the elite of Barrayar, and even counting the Vorbarra and Vorkosigan armsmen, Fox thought the Voralys armsmen were up there with the best of them. _Not that he was biased or anything, of course._ But surely armsmen should be _respected_ , at least. Only ignorant off-worlders would think they could just flirt with them, argue with them, try to tip them, call them names, or ignore them when they felt like it, and just generally insult them. At least he hadn’t been physically attacked like Walton. _That_ was just not on, especially when he could have swatted her like a fly…

Fox caught himself up short. He wasn’t going to brood over a pair of Betans who would be on their way home in a few months. People had _scrambled_ when they’d walked into the Municipal Guard headquarters, and the guard commander had dropped what he was doing and rushed down to welcome them himself. Yeah, who cared what a couple of Betans thought…

Back up in Sheridan’s office they settled in around a low table and listened to the latest briefing while someone else fetched _them_ tea for a change. Sheridan wasn’t any happier than he’d been the last time they’d seen him.

“There’s not been much progress. We’ve identified the drug, at least. From Jackson’s Whole as you would expect, something with a scientific name thirty-five syllables long, called purple popper on the streets. On its own it’s bad enough but there’s a synergistic reaction with high blood alcohol that inhibits breathing. That’s what been causing the deaths. And everybody takes it with alcohol, of course. There’ve been cases in Vorbarr Sultana, but we seem to be the first District capital to have reported the problem.”

Fox tapped his fingers on his tea cup. “I’ve seen what purple popper can do.” He’d never forget the night of the party at Voralys House when Marcel Vorevreaux peddled the vile stuff from the Blue Saloon, but Vorevreaux wasn’t going to be behind this. He’d long since made his apology to the Emperor the traditional way.

Walton thought aloud. “Something’s not right about this. It _smells_.… Not even a year ago people here were too poor to afford alcohol. The drugs they took were out of desperation, cooked up in back alleys or school science labs out of hours, not expensive designer drugs from the capital. There’ve been no reports from wealthy Districts like Vorsmythe’s, or Vordarian’s, you say? It’s targeted. It has to be someone with a grudge against the count. Revenge, I would say. Some remnant villain from Vorclarence’s time that slipped through the net?”

Fox pursued his own train of thought. “What does ImpSec have to say about this? Is there any link to the assassination attempt?”

Sheridan threw down his stylus in disgust. “ImpSec wouldn’t tell me if there was. I’d be the last to know. I doubt if Karasavas will ever trust me again. I was one of the ones who chucked him in the old stables, remember. He may talk to the count, though, or one of you two.”

“Wait a minute!” Fox snapped his fingers. “There’s somebody who might be able to help, and he’s right here in New Sheffield. He flew in with us today—Byerly Vorrutyer.”

“Vorrutyer? How do you think he’d be able to help? He’s a very proficient administrator, I’ll grant you, but he’s as shifty as they come. I sometimes think he couldn’t lie straight in bed. Unless you think he might be a customer and know the distributor of course.” Sheridan sat up straight and a look of, not quite horror, but uneasy shock, for sure, came across his face. “Unless he _is_ the distributor. He’s got the smarts for it.”

“He’s not the distributor. I can vouch for Byerly Vorrutyer.” What to tell Sheridan about Vorrutyer? Fox probably knew a lot more about his history than he ought. “He knows everything that goes on in Vorbarr Sultana, especially on the social side of things. If there’s purple popper still getting into the capital he’ll have heard about it. He’s been useful to the count before. We could possibly trace it from the big end of town. How the stuff gets down here is another matter entirely, but it’s feasible that it’s someone with stock on hand who’s realised the capital is too hot for him right now.”

Sheridan was disappointed to have a tidy theory disputed. “If you say so. I have all my informers out working round the clock. Not one of them has even seen a deal happening, never mind get close enough to buy any of it. It’s funny though. Chalmers in Prestwich hasn’t had a sniff. They’re still battling with the old demons over there.”

“Well, that’s good, in a way. If it hasn’t spread we can nip it in the bud. How can we help?”

Sheridan handed them a couple of flimsies. “Here’s a list of the likely bars and dance clubs. Could you ask around? Some of the bar keeps might think twice about lying to you. You can authorise fast-penta interrogation, too. I have to go back to the count before _I_ do it, and that takes too long. Stale intelligence is worse than none at all. It’s no good knowing where they’ve _been_. We want to find out where they’re going to turn up next.”

Fox looked at Walton for assent. “Can do. We may as well start this evening. We’ve got nothing else on to speak of. Count Voralys wants this sorted, and _I_ want to find these mongrels.”

Before he showed them out of his office Sheridan handed over a couple of credit chits. “I’m glad the count has sent the both of you to help. I really appreciate it. He’s told me to make sure you don’t use your own money if you have to splash the readies around a bit as bait. If you look like big spenders you might flush out a parasite or two. You’ve got my direct access code, and the screamer on your comms if you hit trouble, but take care out there, all the same.” He shook hands with both of them.

“That was good of him. The boss manages to think of a lot of the details, doesn’t he?” Fox nodded farewell as he slipped the card into his top pocket. On their way out of the building he looked over to his brother armsman and winked. “So, Walton, we get to live it up on the count.”

“Maybe. I don’t feel like living it up. I still need to thump something.” Walton wasn’t pacified. He still looked _irate_. Fox didn’t blame him one bit.

“OK. Here’s a plan. We go back and change, blend in as much as we can, spend a couple of hours in the gym, you see if you can thump me and I see if I can thump you, and then after that tonight we go party.”

“It’s a deal.” Walton nodded. “As long as you don’t kick my shin. I’ve already got a bruise the size of a saucer.”

Ma Walton clicked her tongue in dismay when the two of them arrived back at the Dower House. “Oh, you’ve just missed the ladies. They’ve gone shopping with that nice Vorrutyer man and his friend. If you hurry you could catch them. They were only going back to the square, I think.”

“No thanks, Ma.” Walton wasn’t interested. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I chase after those two. I’m taking Fox to the gym.”

“Oh.” She sounded so disappointed. “They seem like such nice girls, and so clever, too. Medtechs! Fancy that. It must be different on Beta.”

“You got that right.” Fox ducked into his bedroom and came out a few minutes later dressed in some old ship knits and running shoes and carrying his backpack. With his short hair he looked like any other newly discharged veteran out on the street. Similarly attired and equipped, Walton appeared. He kissed his mother goodbye. “See you later. You ready, Fox?”

Fox ran his hand over his face. “Maybe we should forget to shave tomorrow. It’s a bit hard to like a look seedy drughead when we’re used to the count’s standards. The boots are a bit of a giveaway, too. I should have brought some old ones.” He stopped to dwell on the morning’s events. “I was a bit distracted earlier.”

Walton thought about his own boots. “Yeah, I see what you mean. I’ll do dust, but I’m not doing scuffs or scratches.”

They headed off. It was only a five minute walk to the gym. On the way, Walton mentioned his last visit to the place. “This is where I met Price. He was like a puppy when I first saw him, all big hands and feet and keen as mustard to join the service. I was really glad I could do him a good turn. Remember the judo instructor from Count Dono’s party? He works here. We should get a decent workout if he’s around.”

“Major Vorjenner? Yeah, he was good.” Fox flexed his fingers. “Can’t kill him, though.”

“You won’t get the chance. He’ll take you out in the first round. You’re too slow.”

“I was fast enough to catch that Dunbar woman this morning, the one _you_ let get past you.”

Walton looked suitably outraged. “There were two of them! I got the other one. I didn’t think I’d be allowed to stun her. I should have. You’re still too slow, though.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Why not?”

They were still bickering when they walked into the gym. Ex-Major Vorjenner looked up from his desk as they entered and smiled broadly. “Well, my day just got better. Welcome, gentlemen. Have you come for a bout or two?”

They shook hands all round. Walton nodded to the mat. “I’ve got money riding on this. Fox is too big and slow to score any points off you.”

Fox wasn’t having that. “I can put _you_ on your backside, Walton, and I will if I get any more of your backchat.”

“Yeah? Put your money where your mouth is. On the counter. Right here.” He slapped down a note. “Major Vorjenner, do you have time to referee? Maybe try a bout or two yourself?”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Twenty minutes warm up, though, if we’re going to get serious.”

The major stuck the two fifty mark notes up on the notice board behind the desk and called for one of the trainers to take over. By the time they reached the mats there were no more jokes. They were all deadly serious. After the warm up he insisted on fitting the three of them out with helmets and body protectors. “No arguments. I don’t want to do the paperwork if we end up with a fatality.”

The second time he was slammed onto the mat and only just managed to avoid the pin Fox began to regret goading Walton. He got a good couple of blows in himself, and even managed to pin him once, but after that it was all one-way traffic when Walton moved into top gear. It was the only point he scored. In between trying to avoid getting killed and trying to find some wind he noticed the ring of spectators gathering around. They should have charged an entrance fee. They’d have made a killing. He needed to concentrate. _Walton still might._

Vorjenner called a halt eventually. Fox had to concede the veteran Ranger had more than got the better of him. After a short rest and a pull on his water bottle he was very glad to switch to referee and judge the bout between Walton and the Major. The gasps and groans from the crowd exactly mirrored his own thoughts as the two of them went for each other with no quarter given or expected. It was hard to say who was going to come out on top until Vorjenner’s shoulder popped.

“Damn!” He tapped out on the mat with his good hand.

“Damn. That must hurt.” Walton echoed the sentiment. He took a strong hold on Vorjenner’s elbow joint and twisted. Luckily the shoulder popped straight back in again.

The major only winced. “Thanks, Walton. It lets me down every time. I’d hoped…” He stopped, just looking bleak for a few moments. “This is what got me invalided out, among other things.”

“Yeah, that would be a bitch.” Walton didn’t offer any more sympathy, just a hand to haul the major to his feet to a thunder of applause from the crowd. They made a formal bow to each other, and to the spectators. He clapped Vorjenner on his good shoulder. “At least we know the both of us could take Fox any time we choose.”

Fox wasn’t going to argue about that. “Feel better, now?”

“Once I’ve got your fifty I will.” Walton pocketed the money. “Race you back the long way?” he asked. “We can shower at the Dower House.”

“You’re on. I’ll show you who’s slow. I’ve got another fifty that says it’s not me.”

They both shook hands with Vorjenner. Fox farewelled him with a promise to be back soon. “I don’t think I’ll be asking for a bout as I really don’t fancy my chances, even with your dodgy shoulder. I might just sign up for some lessons instead. It’s been a pleasure.”

The major waved them off. “I’ll be looking forward to it. There’s not much I can teach either of you, but you’ll certainly be good for business.”

They agreed on a run round the square, through the park and back to the Dower House. It was warm in the afternoon sun and quite humid for the time of year. After the effort they’d just put in it wasn’t long before the both of them were sweating freely. The gentle jog gradually accelerated into something more as each one edged just in front of the other, swapping places all around the running track in the park, ending up with a flat run as they left the park and then a sprint up the final street to the Dower House. With one last heart-bursting effort Fox slammed his palm onto the front door read pad and fell into the entry hall two strides ahead of Walton. Retching and gasping with black spots dancing in front of his eyes he staggered over to the porter’s chair set beside the front door. The priceless carved oak antique groaned as he collapsed onto it. Walton tumbled through the door behind him and just lay on the floor, utterly, utterly spent. Fox searched blindly for his water bottle and downed a long draught. There didn’t seem to be anyone around at the moment. Well, that was just as well. They were a bit antisocial, truth be told, with the sweat and the heavy breathing and all. They probably stank, too.

Walton was first to find enough breath to talk. He groped for his wallet and fumbled out the fifty. “You never would have done that if I hadn’t had that second bout with Vorjenner.”

Fox pocketed the cash then hauled off his tee shirt to wipe his streaming face. He tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “Says you.”

Walton just groaned. The talking had been too much effort. It took him a while and a few more deep breaths to try again. “Ma is going to whip my hide for spoiling her nice floor. I’m sweating all over it. We really should cool down properly, you know.”

There was movement from the upper landing as a door closed and footsteps sounded along the old boards. “Armsman Fox? Is that you back? I wonder if I could please have a—oh!”

If he’d had the energy Fox would have leapt to his feet. As it was he sat bolt upright, supremely conscious of his half-undressed state. He opened his eyes and closed them again. When he looked again she was still there, leaning over the top banister. Yes, it _was_ one of those damned Betans. She’d changed her clothes into something relaxed and free-flowing. From where he sat the view was quite spectacular as she leaned over the rail. He was too far away to see the detail on her earring so he had no idea which one it was.

She bit her lip in what? Embarrassment? Consternation? Whatever, she wasn’t comfortable. She managed to smile at him. “I thought for a moment you were hurt, but I can see you’re—I’m so sorry to disturb you. I wanted to have a word with you both, at your convenience, of course.”

Walton managed to sit up and turn to face her. “You must be Miss Flora.”

She nodded. “Yes, that’s right. How did you know?”

“Yeah, I thought so. Your sister wouldn’t voluntarily come within twenty metres of me.”

“Oh, that’s not true, Armsman! She’s very—” She stopped. “Fiona ought to speak to you directly. That’s actually what I…we wanted to talk to you about. I can see it’s not quite convenient, though, just at the moment. You must have been working very hard.”

“Armsmen _do_ work very hard.” Fox regretted that as soon as he said it when he saw her flinch. He must have sounded really angry still. They had to live with these women for a few more days yet. They should at least be civil to each other. Fox sighed and wiped his face and chest again. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. If you’ll give us half an hour, ma’am, we could meet in the front parlour.”

She nodded, backing off slowly, her eyes wide. “Thirty minutes, in the front parlour. See you there.” Turning on her heels she fled back the way she’d come.

“I wonder what they want?” Walton asked as he pushed up off the floor and scrambled to his feet. His tee shirt stuck to his body with his sweat and he plucked at it, irritated. “It’s probably going to be a formal complaint. Well, whatever it is, they’ll have to wait. I’m heading for the shower.” He looked down. “I suppose I should mop this floor first. Someone might slip.”

Fox headed for the stairs. “You do that. Losers get the good jobs. See you later.”

“You’d better not use all the hot water,” Walton grumbled after him. “You know what these old places are like.”

She’d gone by the time he got up there. All the bedroom doors were firmly closed. Fox listened for a minute but he didn’t hear anything. Miss Flora had gone to ground. _Damn_. No, he shouldn’t go knocking on bedroom doors in this state. He gave up and headed for his room. The hot water felt good as he stood in the shower a few minutes later. He was going to ache something dreadful in the morning, but for all that he felt better than he had since those blessed Betans had turned up. They…unsettled him. He turned the jet to full blast and stuck his head under it, scrubbing away the sweat and dirt. It was no good. Here he was, thinking about them again. The way Flora had looked at him just then, with those anxious wide blue eyes of hers was _disturbing_. She shouldn’t do that to a man. Fox swore. It looked like something else was starting to do the thinking for him apart from his brain. He turned the shower down to cold. He was _not_ going to think about those Betans.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For four such intelligent people, they can be very stupid, sometimes
> 
> Armsman Walton gives them a shock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most people have some extra leisure time this weekend, so we'll have a chapter today and one on Sunday.

 

Flora slid into her sister’s room, closed the door and leaned back against it until her pulse slowed down. “I’m doomed, Fi,” she croaked.

Fiona had been finishing her unpacking. She stopped to look at her twin. “What’s happened now?”

Flora waved a vague hand. “Just now. In the entrance hall. I heard them come back in and went to have a talk. I don’t know what they’ve been doing, but they were just _collapsed,_ one on the chair and the other one was lying on the floor. They were _hot.”_ She had to stop to take a deep breath. “Boy, were they hot. In every sense of the word. Adrian’s shirt stuck to every last muscle like a second skin, and Marcus, he didn’t even have his shirt _on_. I’ve never seen such a…such a—”

Fiona grinned and relaxed. “So this panic and heavy breathing isn’t fear, it’s just good old lust, is it? Such a… hunk? Sight for sore eyes? Turn on? Beautiful human specimen? I wish I’d been there, although I don’t suppose I’d be welcome.”

“Adrian did guess who I was. He said _you_ wouldn’t come near him voluntarily.”

“He’s wrong. I’ve calmed down. It turns out I don’t actually know myself very well. I should never have lost it like that, Fi. When By told us about his father, and how he died and all that honour and so on I felt really bad, guilty, or something. These guys take their honour and their duty _so_ seriously. So, did you?”

Huh? “Did I what?”

“Talk, silly. Did you apologise?”

“Oh, no. Not yet. I wasn’t able to think, never mind talk. We have to meet them in the front parlour in thirty minutes.” She glanced at her chrono. “Make that twenty. I need to do my hair.”

“Do your hair? We have to go humiliate ourselves and you want to do your hair?” Fiona looked at her reflection in the mirror. “I’m clean and tidy and that’s all he’s—I mean _they’re_ going to get.” She tapped a couple of real paper envelopes on her dresser. “Plus these, of course.”

Flora nodded. “I would never have thought of paper, if Sela hadn’t suggested it. It’s archaic, but it’s kind of special, isn’t it?”

“I hope so. Do you think they were joking, about cake?”

“It’s hard to tell, but I wouldn’t be at all surprised. Everybody likes cake though, surely? I guess we’ll find out. See you in fifteen.”

Flora ran back to her room. She thought about changing again, but Fox would expect to see her in the outfit he recognised. It wasn’t a good idea to annoy them any more than they had already. She settled for re-doing her hair and a dab of perfume. Unaccountably nervous, she fiddled with her own letters as she waited for Fiona to come in. It was time to be heading downstairs. They couldn’t be late. She checked her chrono for the tenth time. Where had her sister got to? This was worse than being on the carpet in front of the headmaster at school…

Despite her nerves Flora couldn’t help the little thrill of turning a three hundred year old doorknob and walking through a solid oak door hung on massive wrought iron hinges. Whatever she’d rehearsed to say, though, flew straight out of head as she entered the front parlour. Marcus Fox stood with his back to the fireplace, and Adrian Walton jumped up from the old-fashioned leather sofa as she walked in. Both of them were dressed casually. Fox wore a soft white tunic-type shirt with an asymmetric fastening at the neckline. The dark blue braid matched his blue pants, while Walton wore charcoal grey pants and a lighter grey shirt. They didn’t look scary at all. Well, maybe Walton did, a little bit. Fox just looked heartbreakingly attractive.

Fiona bumped into her from behind. “What did you stop for, Flo? Aren’t they—oh.”

Fiona was nervous, too. Flora mentally crossed her fingers. _Just_ don’t _say anything inappropriate, Fi._ Walton’s expression hardened into suspicion for a moment, until he schooled himself into what he obviously thought was non-committal and non-threatening. All he did was look frozen. She had to speak before she lost her nerve. “Thank you both so much for agreeing to speak to us. Byerly and Sela talked to us over lunch, and explained what a terrible mistake we made. We’re really, really sorry. We had no idea we were so out of line.”

Fiona held out her envelopes. “Sela showed us where we could buy real paper. I’ve written everything down. I’m especially sorry I kicked you, Adrian. I’ve never, ever done anything like that before.”

The men both took their letters, one from each of them, without saying much other than a thank you, then Flora held out the other one. “This is for the count. Lady Alys explained the protocol for dealing with counts, and I think I broke all of the rules, didn’t I? Doctor Waleska did try to tell us on the way out here, but we didn’t really take him as seriously as we should have. It’s all such a foreign concept, this hierarchy business. I hope the count’s not too angry with us. Could you see that he gets this, please?”

Fox took it from her. “I can do that, yes.” He hesitated before speaking again. “Look, why don’t you sit down? Would you like a drink?”

“No, thanks. We don’t want you waiting on us.” Flora sat on one of the upright parlour chairs, anything but relaxed. “Byerly said…” She stopped. Fox and Walton hadn’t sat down. “Aren’t you going to sit as well?”

“If we’re invited.”

“You’re waiting to be asked? Of course you’re invited! Oh, please, sit.”

Walton sat back down and folded his arms. “So what _did_ Byerly Vorrutyer say to you?”

“He said on Barrayar the usual reparation for a serious insult was blood.”

“That’s true. We’re not expecting you to cut your throats, though. And we can’t exactly take you around the back of the woodshed and pummel you into pulp, now, can we? Those days are long since gone.” He paused. “And I don’t, as a rule, hit women, even when they’re hitting _me_. Unless they’re combatants, of course.”

Fiona blushed. She obviously couldn’t think of a thing to say. Flora glanced at Fox, who sat silently, watching intently. “He said…in our case, being foreigners, cake might do instead, so we bought cake.”

The look on Walton’s face made her stop again. His eyes grew very wide. “ _Cake?_ ”

She nodded. “He said to buy cake. Was he wrong?”

“It had better not be Betan vat protein vegan crap.”

Oh, dear lord, she’d offended him again. Fiona shook her head in denial. “Oh, no! We wouldn’t do that. It’s proper Barrayaran cake, with real chocolate and butter and fresh cream, _honestly_. By called it Spartak cake.”

Walton looked at Fox. His mouth thinned. “They bought us Spartak cake, Fox. We don’t get to draw blood.”

“Hmm.” Fox looked like he was considering. “We did miss lunch.”

Walton agreed. “Yep, and it’s still two hours to dinner time.”

Flora looked from one to the other, suddenly suspicious. Walton’s shoulders were quivering. “ _Just_ a minute! Are you two _laughing_ at us?”

“You should see your faces.” Walton tipped his head back and broke into a hearty chuckle. A grumpy Walton was one thing. Him laughing was something else entirely. Flora heard Fiona’s sharp intake of breath. “Vorrutyer has got the worst sense of humour of anyone I’ve ever met. You two looked like you were shi—er, never mind.”

“ _Shitting_ ourselves? We looked like we were _shitting_ ourselves? Scared? Of you? Ooh, you…” She jumped up and looked around. Walton hastily found a cushion and held it in front of him. “Oh, no you don’t. Not you, too.”

Flora suddenly remembered what had got them into so much trouble in the first place. She collapsed back into her chair. It creaked alarmingly. “No, of course not. I’m sorry. _Again_.”

Fiona twisted her fingers. She sounded a bit breathless when she spoke. “So cake obviously _isn’t_ a suitable reparation for our behaving so badly. What can we do?”

The laughter died out of Walton’s eyes. The tension in the room skyrocketed, _just like that_. Flora felt her own pulse soar. Lord alone knew what her sister felt like. He stared directly at Fiona with such an intense gaze even Flora forgot to breathe. If anyone ever turned that sort of attention on her! It was almost… _feral_. There was certainly a very primitive visceral reaction to it.

He spoke quite softly. “You hurt me, you know.”

Fiona nodded. She managed to find her voice. “The awful thing is, I really meant to. I was so angry if I’d had a weapon I might have _seriously_ hurt you. I’m very, very sorry. I had no idea I had such a bad temper. I just saw red. Please say there’s something I can do.”

He tipped his head to one side, assessing. “Hmm. You could always kiss it better. Your choice, of course.”

Fox’s breath hissed out in astonishment. Fiona’s mouth dropped open in shock and Flora knew she couldn’t look much better herself. She gathered her wits as best she could and smiled brightly.

“Er, yes…why don’t I go and organise the cake?”

Fox reached the door in front of her. “Here, let me help you.”

They both fled to the kitchen. “What the hell was _that?”_ she asked, once she’d recovered from the shock.

Fox looked bewildered. “You tell me. I’ve known Walton for well over a year, and that’s only the second time I’ve ever seen him laugh like that. He’s got the reputation as the worst grumpy bugger in town. He’s a damned good man to have as a friend, though. I’ve never seen him even _look_ at a woman. I’ve _never_ seen him turn on the, the what would you call it—?”

“Testosterone. I would call that testosterone, pure and unadulterated. _Phew_! I thought he was going to burst into flames. _I_ still might.”

He gave her an odd look. “Would you? Yes. I suppose a female would find him very attractive, especially when he laughs like that. It changes his face somehow. I think he’s got things backwards, though. You’re the ones who are supposed to laugh.”

“We are? Would you care to explain what that means?”

Fox disappeared into a walk-in cupboard, looking for plates and a tray. His voice sounded somewhat constricted, or was it just muffled by the heavy door? “Just some advice I was given. If you laugh, we don’t die.”

Flora retrieved the cake from the chiller unit. She thought about what he’d said for a moment. “So Fiona’s not going to die just yet. I’m glad.” She thought some more. “Wouldn’t it be a wonderful way to go, though?”

“If you say so.” He wouldn’t look at her when he came back out, carrying plates on the serving tray. “What else do we need? Forks, napkins, cups and saucers? Teapot? I think we’re about set. You know what, I think Walton must have the same warped sense of humour as Byerly Vorrutyer. When I see _him_ though—” He broke off. “Where _is_ Vorrutyer, by the way, and Sela?”

“They went to _The Tea Kettle_. He said he didn’t want to mop up the blood if the cake didn’t do the trick. Actually I think they’re just giving us some privacy. He can be quite sweet when he wants to be, can’t he? I’m supposed to call when it’s safe for them to come back.”

Fox goggled at her. “Sweet? _Byerly Vorrutyer?_ Are we talking about the same person? He’s about as sweet as an unripe lemon. I don’t know how Sela puts up with him.”

“Isn’t Sela so cute? Are they formally partnered? We didn’t want to ask in case it offended.”

“They’re very formally married. I was there to see it, and so was Walton.”

“ _Married_? Really? Here on Barrayar?”

He nodded. “Yes. The Emperor said there was no law against it. It’s only couples of the same sex who are prohibited from marrying here.”

“That’s _archaic_.”

He just shrugged. “Yes, well, so is Barrayar, in many respects.”

He’d got _that_ right. There was something else bugging her. “Like all this lords and ladies business. I thought I’d worked it out. I did read the briefing Doctor Waleska gave us about that, honestly, but how is _Lady_ Alys married to plain Simon Vorillyan?”

“Oh, that one’s easy. She was Lady Alys because she married Lord Padma Vorpatril and widows get to keep their titles. When she finally got round to marrying Simon Illyan thirty years later the Emperor raised _him_ to the Vor. You must know about Simon Illyan. If anyone deserves an honour like that, he does. Strictly speaking she should be addressed as Madame Vorillyan, of course, but the Emperor said he’d been calling her Lady Alys for thirty years and he wasn’t going to change now. It’s a courtesy title, you could say. Some people call them grace and favour decrees. Where the Emperor goes everyone else has to follow.”

“He just makes up the rules as he’s going along? Is that what you’re telling me?”

His brows drew down. “He’s not a despot. He’s a very, very smart man. No, he doesn’t just make up the rules, except in a social setting.”

She could tell she’d pushed the boundary again. No slighting the Emperor on Barrayar and think to live, by the looks. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—I’m just trying to work things out.”

“Do you suppose it’s safe to go back yet?” He glanced at the door, firmly changing the subject.

Flora shrugged. “I don’t know if Fiona would want a chaperone right now. He’s obviously not going to hurt her, after all. It’s not going to be any fun for us wallflowers if they’re sitting there making eyes at each other, or worse.”

Fox’s expression clouded over. “I suppose not.” He gestured to the tray they’d set up. “But there’s the cake, remember.”

 _Byerly hadn’t been so far off the mark after all_. Before they could make a move, the door opened. Walton held it to allow Fiona to precede him into the room. She looked a lot more relaxed than she had been five minutes previously.

“Here you both are. What’s taking so long with the cake?”

“We were just talking.” Flora saw the question twinkling in Fiona’s eye. _No, Fi,_ we _haven’t kissed and made up_. Not that she’d object, of course, but Fox just hadn’t offered. Oh, well. “Everything all right?”

Walton slid in to a place at the table. “Let’s just say I’m better. I’m also hungry, and that cake looks good.”

Flora was going to have to wait and corner Fiona when she was on her own to hear the gossip. She started to serve the cake, doubling the size of the slices she would normally cut.

“So can we please start again?”

Walton still wasn’t finished messing with their heads. “I haven’t tasted it yet. Don’t get your hopes up.”

Fiona found the pot and brewed some tea while Flora handed the other plates around. Despite herself, she held her breath as Walton took a bite. He chewed, swallowed, and wiped his face with his napkin.

“Good cake. Thank you.”

Belatedly, Flora looked to see what Fox was doing. He hadn’t touched a bite, and he wasn’t watching Walton. He was watching _her_.

“Don’t you like it, Marcus? Is there something else you’d prefer?”

Something flickered behind his eyes. “The cake’s fine, thank you.”

Both men suddenly jumped to their feet as the outside door opened, but it was only Ma Walton with a basket of vegetables on her arm. They’d been facing that door, Flora realised, and somehow, Fox had insinuated himself in front of her before she’d even realised he’d moved. Just as quickly, he sat back down again, as if nothing had happened.

Ma Walton beamed at them all. “Oh, isn’t this nice? You’re all here together.” Her expression changed when she noticed what was on the table. “Where did you get the cake? You didn’t buy it, did you? _I_ could have made you a Spartak cake. Tell them, Adrian.”

“Yes, that’s right. Ma makes the best cakes. The ladies didn’t know, Ma. They wanted to give us a treat. You don’t have to get upset about it. I tell you what, though, we’re going to need a special cake on Wednesday. There’s a birthday coming up, and a big one, too. Fox is turning forty.”

She gave him a big smile again. “Oh, that’s lovely. What would you like? Strawberries are really good right now. Would you like strawberry shortcake? Or how about a brillberry torte?”

It was obviously another round of Armsman gotcha. Fox’s glare at Walton was anything but friendly. “Whatever you make will be fine, Ma Walton. You really don’t have to go to too much trouble. I haven’t had a birthday cake in years. I don’t really need the reminders.”

“You just leave it to me, Armsman. We’ll make sure you celebrate this birthday.”

Walton shook his head. “Don’t get carried away, Ma. We can’t have a party. We’ll be working that evening. Just the cake will do fine.”

“You should all go out tonight instead then, and have a drink, and take the other two with you. You can show the ladies the lights, Adrian. All the tower blocks are lit up in all those pretty colours. Or even take them on the tram. That wasn’t running when you were last here. The tourists love it, so I’m told.” She set her basket on one corner of the table and started putting the plates back onto the tray. “Now you all take your cake back to the parlour and I’ll make a start on dinner. I’m doing you a nice roast vat chicken with salad. It should only take an hour.”

She shooed them all out, handing the tray of plates to her son and the teapot and cups to Fox. Flora carried the leftover cake and set it down on a little side table in the front room. She paused for a moment.

“I’ll just send a message to Byerly and Sela to let them know it’s safe to come back. Fi, would you hand the cake around?”

Once everyone was served again Fiona promptly sat down beside Walton on the old sofa facing the fire. There was the upright parlour chair off to one side, and two overstuffed lounge chairs to match the sofa, one on either side of the fireplace. Fox was waiting to see what she did.

“That parlour chair creaked when I sat on it before. You’d better not sit there, Marcus. Why don’t you sit here.” She towed him over to one of the armchairs, “and I’ll just sit on the arm, here, like this. They’re big enough. It’s much easier to talk, don’t you think?”

Walton smiled at the pair of them. It was like he’d at last remembered how to do it, after so long, and was intent on practising. “What’s the matter, Fox? You don’t look too happy. Is Flora too close for comfort?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Flora started to stand but like lightning Fox reached over to catch her wrist. Just as quickly he let go again.

“You stay where you are.” Under his breath, so only she heard, there was a whispered, “please.”

The serious business of eating cake smoothed over the awkward moment. It was delicious. They weren’t quite touching, but Flora was close enough to Fox to feel the heat from his body. He was still hot, and she still quite liked it. He’d gone awfully quiet though. Walton seemed to have taken the initiative. He finished his cake and looked up at them.

“Are you ladies doing anything after dinner? Fox and I have to visit a few of the dance clubs and bars around town. We’d look a lot less conspicuous if everyone was staring at the gorgeous girls we came with, rather than us.”

Fiona had certainly perked up. She accepted for the both of them. “We’d love to come, wouldn’t we, Flo? We can bring Byerly and Sela as well, and make a party out of it. It’ll be our last chance. We were going to go sightseeing tomorrow. Sela mentioned a place called Rotherhall, and then the day after that we start work. Our partying days will be over until the burns unit is running smoothly.”

Flora leaned towards Fox slightly. He smelled of fresh cologne. “Is that all right with you? I can always stay home if you’d rather not—“

Fox cut her off. “No, don’t stay home. I’d love for you to come out with m—us.” He turned to look directly at her. His irises had little golden flecks in the brown this close up, with dark, dark lashes. “The other two as well, of course. With five of you to run interference it’ll be a lot harder to notice if one of us goes sneaking around.”

 _Oh_. He wanted camouflage, not the pleasure of her company. Flora felt a twinge of disappointment. She sat up straight again to finish her cake. _Have it your way_.

“We should go get ready, if you want to go out straight after dinner. Is Komarran style dress acceptable?”

He nodded. “Perfect. It’s the height of fashion. See you at dinner, then?”

Fiona felt like flouncing off. He’d made no effort whatsoever to detain her any longer. Honestly, men!

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byerly Vorrutyer thinks the count is in trouble,
> 
> Fox shows off a hidden talent
> 
> and danger raises its ugly head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The extra chapter today is by way of a celebration.
> 
> For those that celebrate such things, May the Peace of the Risen Christ be with you.
> 
> And if you don't celebrate Easter I wish you every joy anyway :)

There was total silence in the front parlour for well over a minute. Walton sat back on the sofa with a peculiar look on his face. Fox had never seen him quite like this. The last time he’d seen Walton actually _laughing_ was when he’d first met him and Miss Marie’s damned cat had eaten the count’s personal lubricant. He finally managed to verbalise his thoughts and string a coherent couple of sentences together. “What the _hell_ did those two give you when they dragged you into their room last night? It has to be some sneaky Betan aphrodisiac, or something.”

Walton shook his head and did it again. _Smiled_. “It was just burn cream. It’s pretty good, too. My hand looks better already. I don’t know what’s happened, Fox. I was ready to strangle the bloody woman this morning and now all I want to do is… I don’t really know what I want to do first, but it’s going to be a hell of a ride finding out.”

“Did she kiss you?”

Walton just rolled his eyes. Fair enough. Gentlemen didn’t discuss stuff like that. “You’ve got them _both_ swooning over you. The count said…I hadn’t even thought of it before he mentioned it, but the count said Betans go in for…sharing.”

Walton sat up a little. “They do, don’t they.” It looked liked he was considering the mental picture _sharing_ conjured up. “Nah, not for me. Besides, Flora is gone on _you_. She’s giving you all the come on signals. Why else would she sit on the side of your chair like that?”

He shrugged. “No, she isn’t. She told me herself. She said she could burst into flames over you. She said it would be _wonderful_. Perhaps she was trying to make you jealous.”

“I think you’re wrong.” He was going to say more, but there was the sound of an arrival in the front hall. Moments later Byerly Vorrutyer poked his head in the door.

“Ah, here you are. The ladies aren’t with you? Didn’t they grovel enough? Aren’t they forgiven?”

Sela appeared after him. “They must be. Flora said the cake _worked_. I hope you left some for us. I love Spartak cake.”

It spotted the cake on the side table and pounced on it. “Oh, you did! Excellent. And have you let them off?” It looked around after serving two pieces onto spare plates with a forkful of cake half way to its mouth and a huge smile on its face, but paused, the smile fading. “Oh. Maybe not. What’s wrong, Armsman Fox? Didn’t Flora say sorry? I can see _Walton_ has mellowed since this morning.”

Was he that obvious? He pinned a smile onto his face. “What? No, it’s not that. Nothing’s wrong. They said sorry very nicely. We’re going out after dinner and you two are invited. If I may have a word with you, Vorrutyer, I’d like to pass on some information we got from Guard Commander Sheridan today. You might have some ideas about the drugs problem. He said the issue is with purple popper.”

“ _What_?” Byerly Vorrutyer instantly came alert. His eyes narrowed as he started thinking. “That’s not good news, not good news at all. What does ImpSec know about this? I don’t like the ramifications one little bit.” He absent-mindedly took his plate of cake from Sela and started eating. “In fact, I hope someone’s alerted Ivan.”

Fox and Walton both took good notice of that. “You’re thinking revenge?”

Vorrutyer tapped his fork on his plate. “With the Lord Auditor and his wife off on their honeymoon tour, the only targets left for a revenge attack are the Emperor himself and Ivan. Who do you suppose is the easier of those two to get at?”

There was no contest. They all knew but Fox was the one to voice it. “Count Voralys, of course, but I thought that nest of vermin had been mopped up?”

Vorrutyer’s voice sank into a menacing whisper. “All but one, Fox, all…but…one. And when the links of a chain are snapped off,” he paused to chew slowly on another mouthful of cake, “all you can do is forge new links, somehow, and away from the limelight, if who I think it is has got any sense. We know, of course, that he has. He’s a _very_ smart villain.”

Sela looked bewildered. “Who are we talking about? I don’t want to have to punch anyone else.”

Fox and Byerly Vorrutyer said the name at the same time. “Luca Tarpan.”

“Damn.” Walton looked grim. It was a much more usual expression for him. “Perhaps we shouldn’t involve the ladies, then, or you, Sela.”

Fox snorted.”So you’re going to tell them they can’t come out with us tonight?”

Walton reconsidered. It was downright _unnerving_ to see the slow smile spread across his face. “I do see your point. Sela, how about you? You’re not obliged to come.”

Sela had finished its cake. It put its hands on its hips and glowered. “Oh, no, you don’t. My Byerly is _not_ going to put himself in danger without me there to guard his back. You can put that thought right out of your mind. We both have stunner permits, too, don’t forget, and we know how to use them. Lady Alys and Simon saw to that.”

Fox came to a decision. “Walton, you get on to Simon Vorillyan or Lady Alys if you have to. Check in with Price as well. The lads are going to be very short-handed back in the capital. Vorillyan might be able to swing some extra ImpSec clout. Speaking of which, after you’ve done with that get on to Major Karasavas and alert him if he needs it. He’s probably well aware by now, though, if it involves the Emperor.”

Byerly Vorrutyer finished his cake and slowly licked the remnants of the cream off the fork with his long, pink tongue, looking at Sela with lidded eyes while he did so. _“I’ll_ talk to Karasavas. He might just open up to me.”

“Well, _I’ll_ go and talk to Fiona and Flora, then, and keep them happy until dinner time. Besides, I want to find out what _really_ went on.” Sela trailed the tip of its fingers along Byerly’s jaw as it walked past. It tapped him on the nose with a long forefinger. “ _Behave_ yourself.”

Byerly sighed. “If I must.” He walked over to lean against the mantelpiece. “So, what do you think of Fiona Dunbar, Walton? She’s certainly pretty smitten on _you_. I’d even say you’d swept her off her feet, but that got you a good kick in the shin, didn’t it? I don’t think she’s used to red-blooded Barrayaran heroes.”

Walton glowered. Hopefully he was back to normal. “I’m not a hero. I just do what has to be done. And right now, that’s contacting Price and Simon Vorillyan, if you’ll excuse me, sir.”

“Have it your way.” By glanced at his chrono. “I’d better not spoil the major’s dinner time, with that new baby boy in their house. I’ll get on to Mikhail right away and see what he has to say. I’ve still got my old secured-link com set upstairs. See you at dinner.”

Fox headed for the door as well. “I’ll go call the count then, or failing that, I’ll get on to Harper. We need to go to full alert.”

 

Flora hadn’t really believed Adrian Walton when he’d said the two of them would help them blend in, but she’d forgotten about the Barrayaran phenotype. The vast majority of the men in the slowly-moving queue to enter the dance club were tall, dark and fit-looking. Most of the attention was on her sister and herself, as he’d foreseen, with Sela a distant third. A couple of hardy souls had even thought about approaching them, and it wasn’t Fox and Walton who scared them off. It was Byerly Vorrutyer, with a proprietary arm around Sela’s shoulders and his own brand of withering glare.

Walton was amused again. “Most of these lads would rather face a Kyril Island wah-wah than risk getting anywhere near _you_.”

“Good. They will have seen my benevolent countenance on the vid feeds while I was administering down here. They all know who I am. It’ll be a different story once they’ve had a few drinks in them, though, and we start circulating. It’s up to you, ladies, but don’t you take any disrespect from any of them. The Barrayaran man in the street has a warped idea about Betan morals, sometimes.”

“We’ll bear it in mind.” Flora hadn’t realised she’d taken a step closer to Fox until he slid her hand through his arm. Her pulse jumped. That was more like it. She pressed her fingers against his flexors. “What’s taking so long to get in, Byerly?”

“It’s law that the establishment has to provide a table for every patron, so we wait to be seated, plus there’s the security search. My palm print will override that, so we’ll all get to keep our stunners. You can relax. Just have a good time.”

He was right. Sela had a giggle about Byerly _doing a Vor,_ but they were whisked through to one of the best tables in the house, close to the dance floor but at a comfortable distance from the speakers. Fox slid his credit chit into the reader and they all checked out the list of refreshments.

“Some of these names aren’t very polite, are they?” Flora said. “In fact, they’re quite juvenile. _Strawberry slicker_ , indeed.”

“I like the sound of this one,” Fiona said. “ _Brillberry frill_. That’s not rude.”

Sela coughed. “A frill is local derogatory term for a woman, I’m afraid. Most of these names are less than savoury. At least you don’t have to walk up to the bar and order one. Just press the button. Vodka is the base of choice, as you can see, but there are a few more exotic ones. I seriously don’t recommend the _mammary mead,_ even if it does come with a cherry on the top. It’s very much an acquired taste.”

Byerly couldn’t resist. “Tell them how you know, Sela.”

The herm blushed. “It was my birthday. Byerly challenged me to drink the list.”

“What? All—” she counted them up, “—twenty two of them? Shame on you, Byerly! Sela could have died.”

“Sela always passes out after about eight drinks. I had fun watching it try, though.”

Sela’s lips thinned. “That’s two today already, Byerly. You’re being mean.”

“Sorry.” Byerly relented. “So, what’s it to be, ladies?”

Fiona pressed a button. “I’ll stick with the Brillberry Frill, I think. It still sounds pretty.”

Flora looked at Fox for guidance, but he was happy with beer. “Would you recommend a _twisted twosome?_ It’s the least objectionable one here.”

He shrugged. “If you like your drinks tart. It’s a lime and lemon liqueur with vodka and fruit juices.”

Byerly just couldn’t help himself. “Oh, the difference a comma would make! Yes, it’s got a zing, Flora. Very nice.”

Flora glared at Byerly. He really verged on being offensive far too often. She punched the button, dumped her bag in the security locker at the table and stood up. “Would you like to dance, Marcus? We can work our way round the floor and check out who all is here, and I might get some intelligent conversation without the constant innuendos.”

“Sure. I’d like that.” He looked like a big teddy bear as he escorted her onto the floor and whirled her into his arms. “The music switches between techno doof and techno smooch. What’s your style?”

Flora was close enough to smell his cologne again, and see the start of a faint shadow along his jaw. He topped her by a good six inches, and she’d always considered herself tall. Her style? Not swooning seemed to be the end game just at the moment.

“You lead I’ll follow, until I get used to things.”

“Is it OK to call you Flora when we’re like this?”

The beat had begun to reverberate, just slightly faster than her pulse. That would soon change at this rate. “Of course.”

“Well, here we go, Flora. We’ll start with a simple three step.”

In seconds it was a syncopated, toe-tapping whirl of rock steps, spins and counter spins. Apart from holding her hand he only touched her to stop a twirl or start one in the other direction, with the odd few waltz moves where he slipped his hand round her waist. They gradually worked their way around the floor, and Flora started to have fun. Fox was a _good_ dancer. “Where did you learn to dance like this?”

He smiled down at her. “The Count is the best social dancer in Vorbarr Sultana. I’ve had over a year of watching his moves.”

After a full turn round the floor Flora grew bold enough to push back on a spin. Fox ducked and slid under her arm as easy as you please, neatly reversed and ended up back where he came from. Flora laughed aloud. “This is so much fun.”

Fox nodded. “It’s the best fun I’ve had since Count Vorkosigan’s bachelor’s party. We re-enacted the battle of Vorhalasgrad with genuine Time Of Isolation tanks. I even got to drive.”

“That’s your idea of fun? Savage mayhem on a battlefield?”

“Well, among other things, but that was _great_. It was for a documentary.”

She laughed at the earnest expression on his face. “Oh, that’s all right then. It was for a _documentary_.” As the music ended she stood on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “I’m not the fun police. You’re allowed to have whatever fun you like.”

He kissed the knuckles on her hand. “I’ll bear that in mind. It looks like our drinks are there. Shall we sit down?”

”Sure. I want to try this twisted twosome.”

Fiona and Walton had stayed on the floor for the next dance, but Byerly and Sela appeared to have had a little spat. It didn’t look like they were speaking. Byerly looked up in relief when they got to the table.

“Oh, good. You’re back. You make a fine couple on the dance floor. I want to go see who’s around but I didn’t want to leave Sela on its own. Would you excuse me, please? I’ll be back soon.”

He melted into the crowd. Sela watched him go with his lips thinned and a cross expression. “If I didn’t know what a good man he is at heart, I’d be ready to thump him. He’s being so provoking!”

Fox gave its shoulder a squeeze as he settled into his seat next to it. “Oh, Byerly would lay down and die for you, Sela! You know that. It’s just his way.”

“I don’t have to like it, though.” Sela gave one last resentful glance in the direction Byerly had disappeared before changing the subject. “So, are the two of you coming with us to Rotherhall tomorrow? There’s not a lot of detecting you can do when all the villains are in bed until the afternoon.”

Fox was about to refuse, Flora could see. She had to stop that PDQ. “Oh, what a good idea!” She looked at him in expectation. She even thought about batting her eyelashes, but that was a bit… _something_. “Please come. That would be wonderful.”

He melted right before her eyes. “You’d like me to come? I’ll have a word to Walton. I don’t see why not.”

“Oh, excellent! We’ll have a great time. I’ve heard it’s very historic. Do you think we’ll get to see any horses? I’ve never seen a horse, except at the zoo. Do they walk around the streets?”

Fox smiled at her. “Not usually, no, unless they’re being ridden or driven. I’ll have a word with Farmer Eccles in the morning. He’s got a crop of foals at the moment.”

“Foals? Oh, baby horses, of course. Really? Aren’t the mothers fierce?”

“I wouldn’t suggest approaching them. We can see them from a safe distance.”

Walton and Fiona came back to their seats mid-tune. Walton looked grim again, and Flora could tell her sister wasn’t quite comfortable. _Something had happened_. Beside her, Fox tensed.

“Someone is watching Byerly, Flora,” Fiona said. “We saw him just now.”

“You didn’t recognise him?”

Walton shook his head. “No. He looked very familiar, but I couldn’t place him. Six-one, dark brown hair going a bit grey at the temples, brown eyes, reasonable build, bit of a paunch. Mid forties at a guess. I’m going to see if I can pick him up again. Vorrutyer doesn’t know, yet. Will you mind the ladies?”

Fox gave Flora’s arm a little squeeze. He was getting better at the touchie-feelies. _Which wouldn’t be hard_ … He spoke instead to Fiona, though. “Would you dance with me, Miss Fiona? You might be able to spot him again. Two sets of eyes are better than one.” He looked over to Sela. “Sela, you haven’t had a dance yet. I’m sure Flora’s got her breath back by now.”

There was an unspoken request, and Sela wasn’t stupid. It finished its drink and held out a hand to Flora. “Shall we show them how it’s done on Beta?”

Flora only managed a quick sip of her twisted twosome. It was tart, as Fox had said, but delicious all the same. There were undercurrents here she wasn’t aware of, but it seemed best to go with the flow. They were being tag-teamed very efficiently. Besides, dancing with Sela should be fun. It would be interesting to see who got to lead.

It was becoming a bit more crowded on the dance floor. Flora and Sela took turns leading, which worked out well. They weren’t all partnered pairs out there. Flora kept an eye on some of the rituals going on. Small groups of females would dance together, but there was not a lot, make that none, of the same happening with the males. They sat around the tables, sipping beer mostly, until every now and then one of them would muster up the courage and approach one of the groups. Some got rebuffed, others accepted. It all looked fairly harmless. She didn’t spot Byerly, or Walton, either. When the turn of the dance let her see Fiona and Fox there was no sign of them doing anything other than having a good time. Flora had a second look. They’d better not be having too good a time. Fi was like that. _Flirt_ didn’t begin to describe her.

“Jealous?”

_Oh!_ Flora turned her attention back to Sela. “Oh, Sela, I’m so sorry. Do you know what? I think I _am_ jealous. Fiona won’t be content with conquering Adrian. She’ll want Marcus as well, just to prove—”

An arm slid round her waist, out of nowhere, it seemed, but unfortunately it was attached to a type of Barrayaran she’d met before, the _lout_ sort.

“Cutting in.” He didn’t sound drunk, not quite, but he’d obviously found some dutch courage from somewhere. It certainly smelled like it. The arm slid up from her waist to settle just under her breast. Sela deftly swung her away before it could move any further, insinuating its own body between Flora and the bravado trying it on.

“I don’t think so, Sunshine,” it said. “The lady is with me.”

Flora saw the man’s eyes and pulled Sela towards her as hard as she could, just as a fist flashed out. It would have taken the herm behind its ear if she hadn’t hauled it out of the way. Before she could open her mouth to say a word someone pushed past her from behind. Not another one! Were they hunting in pairs? She tried to put her arms round Sela to protect it, but she didn’t need to worry. It was Walton. With a minimum of movement he slid his fingers into the lout’s collar, twisted, and hauled him up onto tiptoes. Most of the bystanders never noticed a thing. The menace projecting from the armsman didn’t need words. His hapless victim threw his hands up in surrender and backed off as soon as his feet touched the ground again. Ashen-faced, he slunk off back to his friends.

Walton watched him go, then dusted off his hands as he turned back to them.

“The neighbourhood’s gone downhill recently, hasn’t it?”

Flora kissed one cheek. Greatly daring, Sela kissed the other one.

Walton glared and pointed a finger at it. “You can cut _that_ right out. You’re a married herm.”

“Just right now I’m a very grateful one. Have you seen Byerly?”

Walton nodded. “He’s fine. No sign of the man who was watching him, though. It doesn’t look like Fiona has spotted him, either. He’s gone. You two finish your dance. I’ll wait back at the table.”

They called it a night after another hour or so. Flora waited in vain for the techno smooch Fox had promised her. That mustn’t happen until later in the evening, but the techno doof was fun enough. Whoever had been watching Byerly had made himself scarce. It was going to be a case of going through the mug shots back at the Guard headquarters, but Walton wasn’t confident they’d be able to pin him down. His description would fit three hundred men in New Sheffield at a bare minimum.

It was quiet out on the main square, too late for sober, law abiding people to be out of their beds and too early for the clubs to close. The night was clear and the stars close. Byerly and Sela had more or less patched up their differences, enough for Sela to snuggle in under By’s arm, anyway. Fiona and Walton headed off together. Flora couldn’t quite see but she rather thought they were hand in hand.

“Walk with me?” Fox proffered her his elbow, all of a sudden formal again.

Flora didn’t know how to curtsey. _Such a shame._ It would have suited his request. She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and settled in beside him to stroll back to the Dower House. It felt right. “I had a wonderful time tonight, Marcus. Thank you.”

He smiled down at her. “So did I. I haven’t been dancing like that in years. Not since I was second at a wedding.” His eyes clouded over as a memory came to him. “Marie’s mother and father, actually. I’m grateful every day that Count Voralys has adopted her. She has Byerly Vorrutyer wrapped around her little finger, too. He gives her drawing lessons every week.”

“He’ll make a wonderful father, one day.”

“You really do have the most peculiar view of—Shh.” He tensed, listening intently for a few paces. “We’re being followed.” He checked again. “Walton! Stand to.” He’d hardly raised his voice, but Walton dropped back beside him in seconds, stunner in hand. Byerly and Sela produced their own weapons without any fuss as the armsmen melted away into the darkness. Even flanked by a suddenly sinister Vor and a suddenly serious herm Flora shivered. This is what they’d wanted, but she found she didn’t care too much for danger and intrigue. It was _scary_. Fiona thought the same thing, obviously.

“They won’t get hurt, will they?” she asked Byerly.

He shrugged. “You’re worried about _them_ getting hurt? Maybe a little bit, but someone else is going to be in a whole world of hurt any minute now. I think we should just keep walking. We don’t want to get hit by the spatter.”

Fiona wasn’t convinced. She looked back over her shoulder again. “Shouldn’t we call the cops? The Municipal Guard, or something?”

Byerly laughed out loud. “Call the cops? Lady, they _are_ the cops, sort of.”

“Oh, that’s all right then.”

Stunner fire buzzed from the darkness behind them. Byerly picked up the pace a little. “Or, on second thoughts, we could just run for it.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betans don't understand about _ImpSec_
> 
> A lovely day in Rotherhall heads downhill fast.

 

It was close to midnight when Fox and Walton returned to the Dower House. Instantly the door to the front parlour opened and Flora and Fiona rushed out. They both spoke at once.

“What happened? Where have you been?”

“Are you safe? Not hurt? Why didn’t you let us know?”

Byerly Vorrutyer sauntered out at a more leisurely pace. He looked relaxed but his eyes betrayed him. “Was it our acquaintance?”

Fox shook his head. “Not unless he’s been an abattoir worker for the past ten years, and four friends with him.”

Walton looked like he had a bad taste in his mouth. “It was the idiot from the dance floor. He wanted to find out where the ladies live and maybe come back later to visit.”

Flora shivered. “That lout? The one that tried to punch Sela? And he wanted to…what’s an abattoir worker, anyway?”

“Meat processing plant. He’s working his way up to slaughterman.”

“Slaughterman? And he _touched_ me? Oh, _blergh_.”

Walton frowned. “It’s a perfectly legitimate occupation. I’m sorry you find it so distasteful, but it’s not a crime. His only crime, as it turns out, is stupidity. It took Major Karasavas some time to interview them all. He’s satisfied they’re no threat to the Emperor or the Count.”

“Just us, you mean.” Fiona commented, somewhat bitterly. “That’s all right, then. Nothing to get into a tizz about.”

Byerly Vorrutyer relaxed properly. “If Karasavas is satisfied, I’m off to bed. I’ll leave you four to your goodnights. The lightflyer is booked for 0900 hours tomorrow. I have no idea how I’m going to cope with that, but Sela insisted. It went to bed two hours ago. Unfortunately I couldn’t persuade the ladies that there was nothing to worry about.”

He disappeared up the stairs. Fox watched Flora’s expression. “You were worried about us?”

She looked utterly exasperated. “ _Of course_ we were worried about you! You disappeared, and then there was stunner fire, and then nothing, for three hours! You could have been _dead_ , for all we knew.”

Walton got that stupid expression back on his Face. Fox really didn’t like it. He sounded not quite shocked, but certainly surprised. “You were worried about us. That’s…Only my Ma has ever worried about _me_ before.”

Fiona just about stamped her foot. “Well, don’t you get too excited over that, Armsman. I’m certainly never going to do it again. Honestly! _Barrayarans!”_ She stomped off up the stairs and there was a very emphatic bang as her door slammed shut.

Walton dithered a bit, looking up the stairs, to Fox, and back up the stairs again. “Should I go after her?” he asked Flora. “We never meant to upset anyone. We were at _ImpSec_. There’s no communication from there. They had an air car drop us home.”

Flora just shook her head. “Leave it until the morning. She’ll have cooled off by then, but it’s your turn to apologise, Adrian. And no, before you ask, we don’t need cake.” She turned to head off up the stairs, but Fox reached out to hold her back. Walton made himself scarce instead.

Fox had to try to patch things over. “Look, I’m really sorry. We didn’t realise—”

“What, that I cared about—the two of you?”

That hadn’t worked. She looked so cross, and so beautiful. Something hurt in his chest, just for a moment. He slid his hand round her waist and looked down into her eyes. “Flora.”

“Don’t you Flora m—”

He kissed her, before she could protest any more. She tasted good, too. He wasn’t going to give her up without a, well, not fight, exactly, but certainly a protest. “I’m sorry if it’s Walton you like, Flora. Just tell me, and I’ll back off. I just want you to be happy.” He had to say it. “But I so wish it was _me_.”

“You wish it was you?” She pulled back enough to hit him in the chest with both fists. “You big galoot! What makes you think I like Adrian? _You’ve_ had every encouragement apart from me throwing myself on the ground in front of you!” 

He sucked in a deep breath. “You _told_ me you liked him. _You_ said he was hot. You said you could burst into flames over him!”

“ _I_ did?”

“You most certainly did, right after we went to fetch the cake. _You_ said it wouldn’t be much fun, watching your sister and Walton making out on the sofa. I thought you were trying to make him jealous, when you came and sat on the arm of the chair.” He tailed off all of a sudden, when he saw the way she was looking at him.

“Don’t stop now on my account,” she said, with a dangerous look in her eye. “What else did you think?”

He took a big breath. He was dead meat. He knew it. The only question was how soon. “I thought you might want to share him with your sister.” He finished with a rush. “The count said Betans do that sort of thing.”

She leaned forward to tip her head against his chest. No, she thumped her head into his chest, and then did it again.

“You absolute, card-carrying, certified _ass_. You total fool! I don’t care about Adrian Walton! Well, I do, but not like _that_. He’s a magnificent human specimen, but so, my friend, are _you_. The two of you leave the average Betan for dead. I couldn’t even make my legs hold me up when I saw you without your shirt on this afternoon. I had to lean on the rail.”

She reached up to haul his head down and kissed him soundly, her mouth opening in invitation under his. Fox might be an idiot and an ass and a fool, but he didn’t think he was stupid enough not to kiss her right back. His other hand wrapped around her back and pulled her as close as he could get her.

Flora sounded like a kettle coming up to steam, sort of wheezy. He realised what he’d done a split second too late. “Oh, sorry. I’m so sorry.” He let go and stepped back. It took her a few moments to get her breath back.

“Ow! That’s the second time you’ve tried to break my ribs.”

“I didn’t mean to. I really didn’t mean to. The first time was duty. You know that.”

He must have hurt her. She had tears in her eyes. _Aw, shit_. What an idiot! He wrapped his arms round her as if she was some sort of exotic flower—those Escobaran moon flowers the count was so fond of, perhaps. “Please don’t cry. I’m sorry.”

She pulled away again, but not angrily, just to look at him. “You said that already. I believe you.”

He used the pads of his thumbs to wipe away the tears. “I never want to make you cry, Flora. Not ever.”

“Well, the precedent’s been set. You could always kiss it better. Your choice, of course. Then we’d better say goodnight. I only met you two days ago. I have some thinking to do. On my own.”

He held her head this time, with fingers threaded through her hair and his thumbs brushing gently over her ears. The kiss just left him wanting more. “You really like me better than Walton?”

She smiled. It was breathtaking, without the crushed ribs. “Yes, I really do, Marcus Fox. In fact, I like you better than anybody. Goodnight.”

He watched her head off up the stairs. _She liked him_. She liked him better than anybody. He tried out the sound of it. “Flora likes me.” He took the stairs two at a time. He could almost have floated up them. What was she thinking about, behind that closed door? As he got ready for bed he devoutly hoped it was exactly the same thing _he_ was thinking about.

 

Rotherhall worked its magic, as it always did. As they strolled around the main square the sun lit up the beautiful yellow stone and glinted off the mullioned windows of _The Black Sheep,_ the Time of Isolation hotel that dominated one side of the square with its ancient bartizans and iron-studded oak doors. Flora and Fiona stood and looked at it in absolute wonder before they all went inside to say hello to Mrs Williams, the landlady. She bustled out from behind her desk to welcome By and Sela with a kiss on the cheek each, and a warm handshake for the armsmen. She beamed in delight at the Betans.

“Welcome to Barrayar, and welcome to _The Black Sheep_. Any guests of Count Voralys are doubly welcome here. You’ll be wanting a nice hot cup of tea and a slice of my apple pie, I’ll warrant. The hotel is full of your countryfolk, too. You must have seen lots of them out in the square?”

Flora smiled at Mrs Williams’ enthusiasm. “I’m sure it was everyone with their jaw hanging down, like mine was, to see this place. Your hotel is nothing short of stunning, Mrs Williams. It’s like something out of a holovid.”

The landlady led the way into the dining room where they were again dazzled by the sumptuous wooden panelling and the oak beams. “Oh, it’s real enough. It’s stood up to three hundred winters. You won’t have time to see the cellars today, but you’re very welcome to come back any time.”

The parquet floor gleamed in the sunlight streaming in through the windows. All the tables and chairs were wooden, too, covered with beautiful embroidered tablecloths for the morning tea service. The apple pie tasted delicious, Byerly Vorrutyer said nothing contentious, and even Marcus and Adrian relaxed. They still faced the door, Flora noticed, but they were never going to break that habit. Fiona slid a hand under the tablecloth to lay it on Adrian Walton’s thigh, by the look of the expression on his face. Whatever he’d said to apologise that morning had obviously worked. Marcus sat close enough to her for his knee to touch hers under the table. All in all it was a lovely, lovely day.

Sela glanced at its chrono once too often for it to be a casual action. Fiona noticed as well. “Have you got something planned, Sela? You look like you’re anxious about something.”

It denied being any such thing. “Not anxious, just eager, and I think I can hear it now. If everyone’s finished we should head back out to the square. Byerly can settle up with Mrs Williams. It’s about time he put his hand in his pocket for something. Old habits die hard with Byerly, don’t you know?”

Vorrutyer sniffed. “ _I_ don’t squander my money. That doesn’t mean I’m parsimonious. I haven’t seen _you_ flashing the cash either, Sela.”

Sela flounced off. As Byerly went it didn’t seem to be too obnoxious, but Sela took it badly. It hurled a parting shot over its shoulder. “The count asked _me_ to do this job. You’re the freeloader this weekend, don’t forget.”

Fiona hurried after it and Flora completely agreed that discretion was the better part of valour before Byerly let his acid tongue get the better of him. She caught up with the other two on the steps of the hotel, and pulled up short. “Oh!”

Fiona clutched at her arm. “Flo, that’s a _horse_!”

It wasn’t anything like the horses she’d seen at the Silica Zoo. It was an enormous, glossy black horse, with bells on its head and a harness attaching it to a…she didn’t know _what_ it was. It was a low, wooden vehicle with a flat floor and enormous wheels. Widely spaced wooden planks spread outwards and upwards to make it look like a most gigantic mobile basket. Along the floorboards there were three rows of what appeared to be great blocks of compressed coarse fibres.

“Sela, what is that?” Fiona asked.

“It’s Farmer Eccles’ best lad, Jed, with one of his hay wains. And that is Centaur pulling it. The mares are all on maternity leave. We’re going out to see the foals.”

“On _that_? Is it safe?”

The hay wain was drawing a crowd of spectators. Centaur ignored them all. He shook his head to dislodge an annoying fly, and snorted. Fiona clutched at Sela and squealed as quietly as she could manage. “Er, umm…that’s going to be exciting.”

Sela tried to reassure her. “Top speed is about twenty kilometres an hour if we’re lucky, but more like ten. I don’t think it’ll be too exciting. It should be _fun_ , though. Where’s a big burly armsman when you need one to help you get on board?”

They were right behind them, as it turned out. Byerly slapped a receipt into Sela’s hand and hopped up under his own steam to take a seat in the far back corner. He wasn’t precisely sulking, but he was most certainly in the grandmother of all huffs with his arms crossed and his lips pressed into a thin line. Sela flopped down beside him. Flora held her breath for a moment, but Byerly said nothing. He just sighed the sigh of a long-suffering spouse.

Fox appeared at Flora’s side. “May I help you up?”

“Thanks. I think I’ll need some help.” She didn’t know what she wasn’t expecting, but it certainly wasn’t being swept off her feet. Fox simply picked her up and swung her onto the top step where she could easily hop down onto the floorboards. He hauled himself up behind her and helped Fiona as Walton swung her up like she was a featherweight. There was nowhere for a driver to sit, Flora realised as she settled down on what Fox called a hay bale, with him beside her. Walton and Fiona took their places in front of them, and they were ready. The farm lad walked beside Centaur’s head. He didn’t need to drive the horse. It just followed where he led.

Fox slid his arm round her waist. He’d got much better at the touchie-feelies since the previous night, she was happy to notice. “You wouldn’t normally get bales in a wagon like this. Ben Eccles uses a grav-tractor and an automatic baler to make hay these days. This wain is a leftover from when they used to use pitchforks to throw the hay up into a great stack. It’s going to be fun for the tourists though, don’t you think? Especially on a two-moon night.”

“I’d never seen a moon before I got to Barrayar. They’re very special, aren’t they?” Her pulse started to speed up. He smelled so nice, this close, and she was stricken with a desire to find out what his skin tasted like. His arm enclosed her with warmth and comfort. She had to concentrate to sound sensible. “They must be very romantic.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it before, but yes, they’re exactly like that on a warm night, when the stars come out.” He pulled her closer. “We don’t _need_ a moon, though.”

Fiona and Walton, on the bale in front of them, had nestled up together quite cosily too. Flora sighed happily. “I had no idea Barrayar could be like this. Everything’s so _peaceful_.”

Fox kissed the top of her head. “Most of Barrayar is peaceful these days, but it’s only because the Emperor keeps a lid on all the crazies. That’s why we’re so keen to find these drug dealers. They’re disturbing the peace and bringing misery to families who’ve had enough misery to last them a lifetime.”

“This is nothing like the way I imagined Barrayar. I don’t know what I was thinking before I got here, everyone at each other’s throats or something, but you’re just people, really, some good, some bad, some wonderful.” She’d be sitting on his lap if he kept up _snuggling_ like this.

“So are Betans. The craziest ones I ever met were the ones from the _Lord Vordagger_ fan club. They just went wild when they arrived. Vorrutyer here told them the count was the model for Lord Vordagger. He wasn’t impressed.”

Flora giggled. “I don’t see why not. He’s an incredibly handsome man. I can well imagine him as Lord Vordagger.” She stopped to think. “Oh, yes. Especially with the red wax.”

Fox could laugh at himself now. “Don’t start that, or I’ll get jealous.”

“Again?” She laughed. Perhaps they could snuggle just a little bit closer. “There’s no need to be jealous.”

It was magical, riding along in the hay wain. In front of them Fiona sat with her head resting on Adrian’s shoulder. Marcus pointed out the different trees, although most of them were the famous oaks that gave the District its sigil. There was a gentle stream he called a beck flowing between sloping green banks, nothing like the raging torrent she’d seen when they crossed the Star Bridge, and there were even birds flying in the blue sky, not confined by any sort of cage. The wide open sky didn’t bother her a bit now. It was _right_. Flora rather thought she’d begun to fall in love with Barrayar. She knew for sure she’d fallen completely for the man sitting beside her. His presence filled her with joy, but a wrenching sadness as well. She only had six months here. In a few days he’d be back in Vorbarr Sultana and she’d be in New Sheffield, working at the hospital. There wasn’t any future in it. _No future at all._

The horse pulled up outside its house, _stable_ , as Marcus called it. She wiped her hand across her eyes as surreptitiously as she could before climbing over the bales to jump down. He caught her in his arms and just held her there, the teasing light in his eyes darkening into something else. She poked his chest.

“Put me down, you big bully. I know you’re a rough, tough armsman. You don’t have to prove it.”

He sighed. “If you insist.” He took his time about lowering her down all the same, sliding her body down across his. They watched as Centaur pulled the wain into its shed then stood patiently to be unhitched, have his harness removed and be rubbed down. Flora was brave enough to pat his huge neck when invited. Fiona hung back, but was persuaded at last. Centaur hardly flinched. Sela fed him a carrot, and the crunching noise sounded loud in the quiet. There was no traffic, no bustle of people, just peace, and carrot munching.

Byerly and Sela led the way to the home paddock, where Ben Eccles waited to greet them. He leaned on the top rail of the white-painted wooden fence, watching his five mares with their foals running at foot. He looked for all the world like a proud Da as the dams grazed the lush grass and the ungainly foals capered around or stopped to nurse and copy their mothers by nibbling at the grass. Flora shook hands with him but could hardly take her eyes off the foals. She could see why the burly farmer had fallen in love with his babies. They were incredibly cute, all eighty-odd kilograms of them, with big, ungainly heads and huge feet.

The paddock was irrigated from the river they’d seen before which flowed along the southern boundary. It was fenced off with more of the same split rails. Farmer Eccles explained. “We don’t allow the horses to drink from t’beck. Their water is filtered for fear of parasites and bacteria, and the irrigation water is treated first. It grows good grass though. That’s the secret. They thrive on it.”

Eccles whistled and one of the mares trotted over. “This is Marguerite. She’s Blossom’s daughter, and this is her first foal. She’s our youngest dam this season.”

Marguerite snuffled around and submitted to being patted but soon lost interest when no apple or carrot was forthcoming. She wandered off again, her filly foal following along behind.

“Come on up to the house for a spot of lunch. There’s a bus load of tourists arriving this afternoon, but that’s not for another two or three hours. Come and meet my wife.”

Ma Eccles gave them the welcome Flora was beginning to expect in Rotherhall, a beaming smile and a rush to feed them. They sat outside in the sun under the trellis where the leaves were beginning to show the signs of the autumn soon to come, and great bunches of grapes hung down, shading from reds through to deep purples. Lunch was delicious. Ma Eccles had practised on Betans before, and her vegetarian option of caramelised onion tart with green salad was just perfect. She piled the armsmen’s plates high with food.

“Ben says I have to bribe you in advance, because he wants a bit of help after to move some more hay out to the nursery barn, and the lads are going to be busy with the tourists.”

Fox sampled some of his definitely-not-vegetarian pork pie with farmhouse chutney. “I’d say that was nothing more than a fair exchange, Ma Eccles. Do you need Vorrutyer to help as well?”

She took one look at the impeccably groomed Vor. “Oh, this fine gentleman? Heaven forbid! That would be like asking the ladies to do the work.”

Flora caught Sela’s eye. They both burst out laughing. Sela bit its lip to stop giggling. “Perhaps he can help you choose your new curtains, ma’am. We all have our talents.”

“it won’t take but five minutes,” Ben Eccles said, steering them back to the hay bales and away from the imminent explosion. “Perhaps the ladies and er…everyone else would like to feed the ducks.”

After they’d eaten Ma Eccles took Flora and Fiona down to the duck pond which lay between the house and the home paddock. It was a small lake fed from the _beck,_ ringed with rushes and late-blooming water lilies. There were some three-quarter grown ducklings still following their parents, and two pairs of graceful swans. She pointed them out.

“Back in the Time of Isolation the Vor would have a roast swan at Winterfair. _We_ don’t eat the swans, of course, or their eggs. Me and Ben just like the look of them. The old cob is getting to be a cranky beggar, so watch out for him. We think he might be sick. We’re going to get the vet to take a look the next time he’s out.” She called out and shook the bag she carried with her. The birds started to swim over for the pellets she produced to scatter on the banks. Flora and Fiona had a handful each to throw as well. They’d only been there a few minutes when Byerly and Sela caught up to them. They’d stayed behind because _Byerly wants_ _to have a quick word_ , as Sela phrased it. Flora wished she could have been a fly on the wall, but By still looked vexed by the time they caught up with the ladies. Sela pretended nothing at all was wrong, but it did look somewhat paler than usual. It had hardly eaten anything at lunch, either. Flora’s intuition told her something was up, but she couldn’t work out _what_ exactly.

By was very careful where he stepped. It looked to Flora that the bucolic idyll was beginning to wear on the town-bred Barrayaran. He stayed firmly on the gravelled path, leaving Sela to join in with feeding the poultry.

“Don’t you like birds, By?” Flora asked.

He pulled a face. “It’s where they’ve _been_ I’m not too keen on. Cleaning duck excrement off my boots is _not_ my favourite pastime.” He cast a resentful glance at Sela, who was oblivious. “I have to put up with enough shit as it is in my day job. I may just wander over and see the foals one last time before that bus load of tourists arrives. There’ll be no getting close to them after that.” He held out his hand. “Are you coming, Sela?”

“When I’ve finished here. I’ll catch up with you, Byerly.”

“Have it your way.” Byerly dropped his hand in disappointment. He skirted the edge of the pond and walked off for the home paddock, some thirty metres away. He picked up a flat rock from the path and sent it skipping over the surface of the pond. “Thank heavens there’s _something_ I can get right. At least I haven’t lost my touch with this sort of ducks and drakes.”

He hadn’t gone more than two strides when there was a hiss and a splash in the water. The cob swan launched itself at him with a great flapping of wings.

Ma Eccles shouted a warning. “Look out, sir! He’s fair mardy!”

Sela gurgled with laughter as the swan lunged at Byerly, who retreated for the paddock fence with all despatch. With its neck low, its beak gaping wide and wings widespread the swan raced after him, hissing as it came on. It was a _big_ bird.

“Sir, sir! Not that way!” Ma Eccles’ voice sounded sharp with warning, but it was too late. Byerly dodged to one side and the swan flapped straight at the fence. With a squeal of fright the mare on the other side turned tail and bolted. Her startled foal took off after her.

Sela’s laugh was abruptly cut off. “Oh, _shit!_ Byerly, go get Farmer Eccles. Run!”

Ma Eccles sprinted to the fence and shooed the swan away. “Dratted bird! Now look what you’ve done!” She looked out over the paddock. The other mothers had startled, but none of them took fright the way the first one had. “It’s Marguerite. She can’t go far. As long as she doesn’t—oh, my lord!”

There was a splintering sound, and the squeal of an animal in pain. “She’s gone through the fence.” Ma Eccles turned a white face to the visitors. “She’s in the beck, and the foal with her.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's muddy, down on the farm, and the waters are murky back in New Sheffield, too

Flora took off at a dead run with her sister right on her heels. They hopped through the fence and dashed across the paddock leaving the portly Ma Eccles labouring in their wake with Sela helping her along. A couple of the other mares raised their heads in mild astonishment to watch their passing but the panic hadn’t been contagious. They soon went back to their grazing.

Flora had no idea what she was actually going to _do_ when they got to the broken fence, but the decision was made for them. The foal flailed around on its side in the water, struggling to find purchase in the mud. It was in danger of sliding so far in its head would go under. Pausing only to snatch off her shoes and strip off her chrono Flora waded into the cold water. The slimy, black mud was treacherous under foot. It wasn’t going to help if she fell on top of the helpless foal, or worse, cannoned into it and knocked it into the deep water. There was nothing else for it. She sat down on her backside and slid until her legs slipped under the foal’s head as it thrashed around. _Poor little thing_. It was just a baby. Its weight was still dragging her down though. She flung one hand backwards.

“Fi, stay on the bank and try and hold on to me. We’re both going to slide under at this rate.”

She desperately wanted to scream for help, but the foal was panicked enough as it was. Its head thumped into her thighs three times before she could take a proper hold on its head collar and hold it steady. She tried to dig her heels in, but it was just impossible in the slime. Fiona in turned scrabbled to find something to hold onto, but there were no tree roots or anything substantial, just grass, which uprooted as quickly as she grabbed it.

“Someone owes me a manicure,” Fi gasped as she dug her fingers into the dirt. “Hang on, Flo. Help’s on its way.”

Flora could only will Marcus and Adrian to get here as she sank further into the smelly ooze. _In fact, now would be good. Five minutes ago would have been better._

There was a splash beside her. It wasn’t Marcus, or Adrian. It was Sela, with Ma Eccles’ jacket sleeve wrapped around one wrist and Ma Eccles holding on for grim death to the end of the other sleeve. Sela hooked its spare arm round the foal’s belly. The poor herm was face down to the mud and slime, but somehow kept its nose and mouth out of the mess by turning its head to rest on its outstretched arm. Flora felt the relief immediately as the weight came off. They didn’t have the strength to pull the foal out, but they weren’t in any more danger of sliding in deeper.

“Just hold on. Byerly’s gone for help. They should be here soon.” The herm looked as white as a sheet, its blue eyes a startling contrast to its strained, pale face. “Should we just chat amongst ourselves while we wait?”

Flora tried to laugh, but the sound that came out of her throat sounded more like a hysterical sob. It could only have been a few minutes but it seemed like years before they heard shouts and the sound of the grav tractor.

Ma Eccles called out to attract their attention. “Ben, Ben! Over here! Get to the mare.” Flora heard the commotion around her. She couldn’t look around. All she could do was talk softly to the foal and concentrate on her hand gripping the head collar, willing her fingers to stay locked closed. Her hand had started to turn a mottled blue from the strain and the cold water. It would have to turn _black_ before she’d let go.

At long last Marcus appeared beside her. She sobbed with relief as he waded past, slipping and cursing softly as the mud tried to claim another victim. He kept his feet by some miracle. Adrian wasn’t so lucky, coming in from Sela’s side of the foal. He disappeared from view with a loud splash and a mad flurry for a few seconds, only to emerge from the water cursing up a blue streak as he shook his head to clear his eyes. The two of them heaved at the foal’s shoulders and hips, shoving it up the slope with brute force. With Fiona and Ma Eccles pulling from the bank they somehow slithered and slid over the edge onto the grass.

The water was filthy, churned with the struggle of arms and legs. Marcus pitched face forwards as he attempted to climb out again to help Ben Eccles. Flora offered him a hand but he let go immediately he started to pull her back into the muck as he too struggled for footing. It was Adrian Walton who took hold of a handful of shirt and hauled. Despite the danger and the freezing water and the filth, Flora had to bite her lip. Twenty years a Ranger had given Walton a wonderful vocabulary, if nothing else. He’d been going for a good three minutes and she didn’t think he’d repeated himself once, although she wasn’t familiar with most of the Russian and Greek ones he switched to when the English and French cusses ran out.

Together with Sela they ended up gasping and retching on the bank. They couldn’t just lie there, though. Marcus dragged himself to all fours while Adrian sat up and deliberately vomited up the muck he’d swallowed. The mare was still stuck in the mud past her knees. Ben Eccles had hauled off his shirt to cover her eyes and she stood quietly enough, whickering to her foal as her whole body twitched and shivered while blood ran from a ragged gash on her withers.

“We’ll have to back her into the deeper water somehow,” the farmer said. “We’ll never get her up here. We can try at the bend. There’s some shingle there where she can get her footing. It’s only twenty metres downstream.” He patted the mare on her neck and spoke in a quiet, soothing voice. “Come on then, Marguerite, love. Come on there, lass. Back now, back.”

She didn’t want to go anywhere right then. She snorted and refused to budge.

“Now what do we do?” Fiona asked.

Ma Eccles clicked her fingers. “Move the foal. She’ll follow it.”

Marcus Fox crawled over to the filly. With an extraordinary show of strength he ducked under her belly and heaved her up onto his shoulders in a fireman’s lift.

With Walton’s help he staggered to his feet and moved her over to the bend in the river where the bank’s gradient was much gentler. Startled again, the little filly cried out for her mother in a shrill neigh. Walton waded back in to go to the other side of the mare’s head and Fox moved in behind her with the water up to his chest to give her a slap on the rump. Ben Eccles removed her blindfold, and at last, with all the encouragement Marguerite pulled herself clear of the mire and began to struggle to reach her daughter’s side.

Flora couldn’t help with the mare. She turned her attention to the foal, who stood, trembling and exhausted, but on all four feet at last. “We need to get her dry.” She looked around for inspiration, but Byerly Vorrutyer was there before her. He’d driven over the grav tractor, still half loaded with hay bales. He heaved a bale out and broke it open. The four of them still on dry land grabbed great handfuls and began rubbing the foal down, following Ma Eccles’ instructions.

“She’s still shivering.” They were all soaking wet, except for one.

“Here, let me.” Byerly surprised them all. Without anyone having to ask he stripped off his smart tunic top, not without difficulty, and laid it over her back, tying the sleeves round her neck.

“Needs must,” he sighed. “I was fond of this suit. It really brought out my eye colour.”

“Get out of the way,” Ma Eccles snapped. “Here comes Marguerite.”

Byerly narrowly avoided being trampled as the mare surged up out of the water at last. The foal huddled up against its mother’s side. Within seconds it was nursing from her teat, a sure haven of comfort in a world turned suddenly terrifyingly hostile.

“Leave her be for now. That’s the best medicine.” Ben Eccles tutted in distress at the jagged gash on the mother. “Splinter wound, by the looks. I’ll have to have the vet out.” He ran a practised hand down her legs, one by one, checking for sprains or worse, wary of the huge feet that could cripple him with a kick.

Fiona approached carefully. “May I see? Perhaps I can help.”

Flora wiped mud from her face. “Here, let me—” She stopped abruptly as Sela made a funny sound. She saw its eyes roll back in its head as it started to crumple.

“Sela!” She was just in time to break its fall, but could do nothing other than ease it down. She rolled the herm on its left side and felt for a pulse.

“No!” Byerly cried out in shock and rushed over. He didn’t panic, not quite, but it was a near thing as he dropped to his knees. “Sela! Sela? Can you hear me?”

“It’s only a faint, I think. Sela hasn’t been well all day.” As best Flora could tell there was nothing seriously wrong, other than the low blood pressure. Its pulse was strong and regular. Almost immediately it began to come round again. Sela moaned as its eyes fluttered open.

“Talk to me, Sela.” Byerly’s voice broke with emotion. “What’s wrong? I’m sorry. I”m so sorry.”

Sela was more embarrassed than hurt as it immediately tried to scramble up. Flora laid a firm hand on its chest. “Stay where you are. Give yourself a minute.”

“Really, I’m fine. I don’t know what happened. Go look after Marguerite. Byerly can stay with me.”

Byerly gently smoothed the hair away from Sela’s brow. His eyes looked distraught but he tried a quip, as always. “You’re a shocker, Sela. Must you always be the centre of attention? Can’t you just be content with winning the wet shirt competition hands down?”

Flora could feel sudden heat flood into her face. She was soaked, too. There really was nothing left to the imagination. There hadn’t been time to think about it before now, but trust Byerly to notice. She crossed her arms over her chest.

Sela looked from Byerly to Flora’s embarrassment and back to Byerly again. It held out a hand. “Help me up.” It was an order. Sela was _pissed off_. It regained his feet and stood close. “You’ve gone too far this time.”

Before Byerly had even an inkling what it was going to do Sela hooked a foot round By’s ankle and pushed with all its considerable might. There was the most tremendous splash as he hit the water head first and backwards. “See how you like it.” Sela snatched up a handful of hay, turned its back and set to work rubbing the worst of the mud off itself.

An exasperated Walton had to haul the spluttering Vor out of the beck. “Yuri’s gizzard, Vorrutyer, this isn’t the time to be skylarking, you useless pillock!”

They were all cold, wet and starting to shiver. Fiona had finished examining the mare’s wounds. “It’s all superficial. Of course the vet has to see her, but I can stitch this if you’ve got a kit. It really needs to be cleaned first, though. I need cool, boiled water, and keep it coming. Have you got some iodopovidone? Any antiseptic will do, as long as its a water-based one. Saline will do if not.”

Flora came to peer over her shoulder. “It looks worse than it really is, doesn’t it? It’s only that one vein that’s still bleeding. Nothing’s pumping, and the muscle fascia is intact. We might even get away without any scarring if you wave your magic wand.”

She turned to the deeply distressed farmer. “Fiona has a real knack with stitches. She’ll fix her right up. How’s the foal?”

Ma Eccles had checked over the foal from nose to tail. “Just a bruise, I think, on her shoulder. We don’t know how to thank you all. We really don’t.”

“Sela needs to go up to the house. Perhaps Byerly can drive you up there and you can bring back the medical kit, and any clean water you have.”

There was a clean handkerchief in the pocket of the tunic Byerly had draped over the foal. He wiped his hand on some unmuddied grass and extracted it for Fiona before he picked up his partner like it was a lightweight and carried it over to the grav tractor. He said something under his breath as he sat it down in the front seat. Ma Eccles hopped up in the back and held out her arms for the foal.

“We’ll take her to the barn. Marguerite will follow, now. We’ll see you all there. We can’t do anything here.”

Marcus and Adrian hoisted the exhausted foal onto a hastily spread bed of hay in the back of the tractor, where Ma Eccles cradled her head in her lap. “I’ll put the kettle on,” she called out as they pulled away. “What we all need is a hot cup of tea.”

“Save any cold tea, too,” Fiona shouted after her. “It’ll help as an antiseptic. Whatever you can find.”

They began the slow walk back to the stables, with Fiona holding a pad over the wound, and Ben Eccles and Flora coaxing Marguerite along. The armsmen followed behind after they took a quick look at the broken fence.

“Ben,” Marcus Fox said suddenly. “Don’t look now, but there’s a bus load of Betans gawking at us.”

The farmer only shrugged. “Aye, they’ve got their money’s worth. Quite the freak show, we are. My lads will deal with ’em. I’m only worried about Marguerite and the filly.”

 

By the time the horses were cleaned, cleaned some more, cleaned a third time, had the wound irrigated, disinfected and stitched up to the best of Fiona’s skill with Flora assisting, then bedded down on a thick layer of straw in the barn, exhaustion was beginning to claw at Flora. Fiona couldn’t feel too much better either, she knew, that was for sure. She’d done the bulk of the first aid on the huge mare, despite her fear of the animal. Flora had merely sorted out the humans, patching up the worst of the cuts and scratches on Marcus and Adrian. It looked like Adrian had managed to acquire a black eye somewhere along the way, too. She knew what _that_ must feel like. There wasn’t much she could do about it, though. Her ministrations were limited to spray-on wound sealer and med strips on knees and elbows. She did manage to sneak in a _kiss it better_ for Marcus when no-one was looking. He was very careful how he kissed her back.

Byerly Vorrutyer waved away any attention. “I’m only wet. I really am very sorry I embarrassed you like that, Flora. I was only trying to distract Sela. For once, I didn’t mean any harm.”

He actually looked contrite. The assault on his hairstyle was punishment enough. “Apology accepted. You should make Sela see a doctor, though. There was something behind that faint.”

Vorrutyer nodded. “Yes, I’ll get it to Doctor Frank in Vorbarr Sultana. She treats all the herms at the Betan embassy. She’s the best in town, if only because she’s the only one in town that’s ever looked at herms.”

They all took turns under the garden hosepipe before venturing inside the house for a shower. The sun had started to set by the time they were all done. Ben Eccles prepared a bed roll to stay with the horses overnight, although he wasn’t too worried about them any more. The foal hadn’t gone into shock, which was what he’d been most concerned about. Adrian and Marcus had co-opted Byerly to go out and help mend the fence before there were any other mishaps and by the time they got back it was getting perilously close to dinner time.

Ben shook hands all round. “I’d invite you all to stay, but Sela has told me you have to get back for Ma Walton’s dinner. It’s probably for the best.” His expression turned fierce for a moment. “We’ll be having roast swan, belike.” He paused to swallow his emotion. “I’d have lost that foal, if it hadn’t been for the ladies, and Sela. It’s traditional for the females to have flower names. I wondered if I might call the little one Flora.”

“Oh.” Flora didn’t know what to say. She felt tears spring to her eyes. “Oh, that’s lovely, Ben. I’d be so honoured.”

They were an odd-looking bunch. Sela, Byerly, Flora and Fiona had all managed to borrow something to more-or-less fit them. Flora and Fiona had to cinch in the voluminous dresses Ma Eccles had found them, Byerly looked like a _hayseed_ as he called it, but only Sela could look gorgeous in a sack. Its tunic top reached down past its knees and the herm wore it with panache and a girdle like a citizen from Ancient Greece.

The two armsmen were a different story. There was nothing in the farmer’s wardrobe anywhere near big enough for the pair of them, apart from a couple of sleeveless winter undershirts which strained across their shoulders and moulded to every muscle. Flora couldn’t take her eyes off Marcus. She might be exhausted, but she wasn’t _dead_. Their borrowed trousers looked nothing short of ridiculous, though, not even reaching to the tops of their squelchy boots. It was best to concentrate on looking further up. The view was much better that way.

One of the lads was sent over to Rotherhall to fetch the flyer for them. They loaded it up with bags of sopping clothes and all climbed in. Byerly volunteered to fly it back. He was the least exhausted of all of them, and very, very subdued. He hardly said a word the whole way. Sela sat beside him in the front compartment, relaxed enough to doze off for most of the time, but with a self-satisfied smile lurking from time to time as it nodded awake and looked at its husband.

“We’ve only got one day left before we start work,” Flora remarked as the lights of New Sheffield came into view. “Sightseeing is too exciting for me. I think I’ll stay home tomorrow and wash my hair… _again_.”

“And our shirts and trousers and underwear and socks and shoes,” Fiona added. There was a bulging bag of soaked clothes near her feet. “I still haven’t got my fingernails clean, either, what’s left of them. I’ve never been so dirty in all my life. Do you suppose we need to get a tox screen?”

“You should have had some shots before you got here,” Walton said. “Didn’t Doc Waleska sort that for you?”

“Oh, yes. I forgot. Plus we pretty well scrubbed ourselves raw with that antibacterial solution. What about parasites, though? Didn’t Ben Eccles say he wouldn’t let the horses drink from the river?”

“Did _you_ swallow any water?” He shrugged when Fiona shook her head. “Not like me, then. There’s nothing _deadly_ to humans. You’ll soon know if you swallowed a crypto, or a worm. Worry about it when it happens.”

“Worry about what?”

“Vomiting, the runs, severe weight loss, nasty swelling in unwanted places, hair falling out, rashes, skin peeling off. Take your pick.”

Fiona threw a soggy sock at him. “You’re a regular Job’s comforter, aren’t you?”

He just caught the sock and grinned.

 

Ma Walton looked at them in undisguised astonishment when they all trooped in.

“Don’t ask, Ma.” Her son gave her a kiss. “We accidentally got wet. Give us ten minutes to change, would you? I don’t know about the others, but I’m starving!”

She smiled at her son. “Dinner’s all ready when you are, but there’s some parcels come for the ladies, and Zac Sheridan came by with some holo files for you all to look at.”

The armsmen both came to immediate alert. “Parcels? What sort of parcels? Nobody knows we’re here. Where did you put them, Ma?”

She looked bewildered at the urgent tone of his voice. “Why, in their bedrooms, of course. Adrian, where are you _going_?”

Walton hadn’t waited for his mother to finish speaking. She was talking to the empty air as he bolted up the stairs. Marcus Fox put his hand out to stop Flora and Fiona following him. “Stay here. Who brought the parcels, Ma Walton? Please. This is important.”

She tutted with annoyance. “It was a courier. They’re from that nice secretary to the count, the Greekie man. You think I did something wrong, don’t you?”

“Philip Nicolaides? Did he let you know they were coming? Did you speak to him?”

“Yes. You don’t have to worry. It’s the ladies’ new uniforms. I counted them off and scanned them, just like he told me. Adrian is exactly like his Da. Always imagining the worst. I’m not exactly stupid, you know. I followed all the security drills.”

She’d been married to an armsman for forty years. They’d all forgotten. “We’re sorry. That’s our job, Ma Walton, to prevent the worst. I think we can relax this time, though.”

Walton poked his head over the railing a few moments later. “All clear. Come on up.”

With the launderiser running full bore and more loads waiting to be processed no-one felt like going anywhere after dinner. They gathered round the comconsole in the front parlour instead, to check the mug shots the Guard Commander had dropped off for them.

“I didn’t realise you had so many crooks in town,” Fiona said after they’d trawled through over a hundred holos. “They’re all starting to look the same. What do you think, Adrian?”

“I’ll know him if I see him,” Walton replied. “Most of these will have moved on by now.” He flicked through another few. “Wait…go back.”

He found the holo that had caught his attention. “I’m pretty sure that’s him. What do you think, Fiona?”

“It could well be,” she admitted. “I didn’t get as good a look as you did, though. What do _you_ think, Byerly, do you know why he was watching you?”

Byerly Vorrutyer had gone very still, his body language on full alert. He sat back and tapped his fingers together. “Oh, yes,” he said, eventually. “That, my friends, is ex-Patrol Captain Darian, lately of the New Sheffield Municipal Guard.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misunderstandings, reconciliation and a spanner hits the works.

 

“Didn’t he go to jail for extortion?” Fox asked. “I’m sure I read a report about him.”

Byerly Vorrutyer called up his record. “He certainly did, but it was only for six months. He’s been out for a while. I’ll have to remember to watch my back.”

“Oh, I think it’s Darian who’s going to have to watch his back. We need a word with him.”

Byerly’s brain had been working overtime. “I wonder how he escaped ImpSec’s attention? If he was in Lord Aaron’s confidence it would have come out in the interrogation.” He paused. “ _Everything_ came out in that interrogation. General Allegre crossed every t and dotted every i. Unless he was the count’s man, of course, spying on his son. That would probably account for it. Dead men tell no tales.”

“Maybe.” Fox wasn’t ruling anything out. “Or maybe he’s just an independent villain with a grudge. There are plenty of those around.” He studied the face intently, committing it to memory. “I’ll get on to Sheridan and have an arrest warrant issued in the count’s name.”

Flora looked at him in shock, like he’d said something obnoxious. “Warrant for what crime?”

“The count doesn’t need a reason in his own District. He’ll just be helping us with our inquiries.”

She blinked. “That’s a bit arbitrary, isn’t it? He didn’t do anything wrong yet, as far as I can tell.”

Fox shrugged. “It’s the way we do things. He’s under suspicion and we need to find out what he knows. If he’s excluded from any crime he’ll be let go.”

“I see.” He could tell she wasn’t happy. “Some system you have here. Someone doesn’t like the look of you and you can be disappeared.” She clicked her fingers. “Just like that.”

He felt a spark of anger, annoyed at her lack of understanding. “No, it’s not just like that! He can be arrested. No one is _disappeared_ , any more. You want Mad Emperor Yuri for that sort of thing. The system works for us. If you’ll excuse me, I need to talk to Guard Commander Sheridan.”

She obviously wasn’t best pleased either. “Don’t let me come between you and your work. I’ll go try on my new uniforms. What do you say, Fi? You coming?”

Fiona glanced at Walton. He was intent on reading the data file on Darian. “Sure, why not? We’re obviously not needed here.”

Fox held out a hand to stop Flora as she brushed past. “I’m sorry you’re upset, but this is my _work_. It’s why I was sent down here in the first place. If there are _any_ implications of loose ends from Vorclarence’s treason they have to be followed up immediately. I have to keep the count and his family safe. We should have looked at these files hours ago. Walton and I should never have gone to Rotherhall today.”

“I persuaded you against your better judgment, you mean?” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m not upset, exactly, just a bit disappointed. I have to try and get my head around it. I’ll see you tomorrow, hopefully.”

“Please.” Just for a few seconds he watched her go. _Would_ he see her again? Maybe. Maybe he _shouldn’t_ see her again. It was never going to work. The count had been right to worry she’d break his heart. It hadn’t taken six months, though. It had taken three days…

He shook his head. _Sheridan_. He needed to talk to Sheridan.

 

Fox and Walton went along on the raid to Darian’s last known address. The Guard Commander left nothing to chance, sealing off all the entrances to the apartment block before pouncing. It was all for nothing, though. He was long gone, for more than three months, in fact. Sheridan didn’t think he needed to ask for a fast-penta interrogation of the family they found there. They were one of the lucky ones rehoused from the Prestwich redevelopment and had never even heard of Darian, or knew the first thing about him. The sight of two towering armsmen had the young couple quaking with fear. Luckily their three-year-old slept right through the whole thing. Flora wouldn’t have approved, Fox just knew. He wasn’t that happy himself about terrorising an innocent family at three hours to midnight. He waited for the squad to finish knocking on doors throughout the block, but there weren’t many leads. Make that none. Sheridan summed it up.

“It looks like ninety percent of the residents, the ones who knew him, were delighted to have seen the last of Darian. The other ten percent wouldn’t have had a clue who he was and couldn’t care less. He certainly didn’t leave a forwarding address, but of course all of that is being checked.” He looked glum. “I’ve asked Major Karasavas to lend ImpSec’s weight to the investigation. I really didn’t want to, but even a hint of the Emperor’s or the count’s safety being involved changes the whole picture. Karasavas would skin me alive if something happened and I hadn’t told him.”

Fox wasn’t about to argue. “It’s the result that counts, not how we do it. Darianwon’t be able to move in this town without us knowing about it. We’ll keep the high alert for now, and Walton and I will start on known associates. Perhaps you can supply the list of personnel who worked with him, and interview the ones still on the roll. We’ll pick up the rest.” He looked at his chrono. “Tomorrow. We should go get some sleep now, hope Karasavas turns up something overnight and take a fresh look in the morning.”

The Dower House was dark and silent when they returned. No-one was waiting up for them this time. Fox hadn’t expected it as he’d never had anyone wait up for him apart from that one time, but he felt a little tug of disappointment all the same. There was no sign of a light under Flora’s door when they headed upstairs, either. He sat on his bed for a few moments, contemplating his boots and his fate as he stripped off his chrono and stunner and emptied his pockets onto the little nightstand. He took off his uniform tunic and hung it carefully in the closet, all the while thinking of the _what-ifs_ and the _might-have-beens_.

The tap at the door surprised him. He hardly heard it. If he’d been asleep it would never have woken him up. He snatched up his stunner and stood to one side of the doorframe as he cracked open the door a bare inch.

 _Flora!_ His heart hammered into overdrive. It was if his thoughts had summoned her up. She wore bare feet, a sarong and a loose top, and her glorious hair tumbled down her back. She looked up as the door opened. Her eyes were huge in her worried face as she twisted her fingers and bit her lip.

He opened the door wide and checked the corridor left and right for danger. “What’s wrong?”

“Um…nothing’s wrong, exactly. Well, that’s not right. I…er…”

She trailed off, apparently tongue-tied. Fox waited.

“Could I please have a hug?”

He hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath, but it hissed out in surprise. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. He stepped back, carefully replaced his stunner in its holster and opened his arms. “I think I can manage that.”

Flora walked in and closed the door. She looked at him for a few dubious seconds before launching herself across the room.

“I’m so sorry. It’s all gone wrong. I never meant to be so…so…”

“So what? Cute?” Her hair smelled beautiful, like wildflowers. He was careful not to squeeze too hard, much as he wanted to. He hardly dared breathe, waiting for Flora to tell him what she wanted. He stood there and nuzzled her hair, letting his hands wander just a little bit.

She pushed off from him at last. “Can we talk?”

There wasn’t much choice of seating in his room. There was a chair by the dressing table, and the bed. He pulled out the chair for her and sat on the edge of the bed to face her. “What would you like to talk about?”

She pulled a face at him. “Me. Us. Beta. Barrayar.”

He shrugged. “Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? Beta and Barrayar. You’ll only be here for six months. I’ll never leave Barrayar, unless it’s to follow the count. Whatever _us_ there is would have to be temporary, and I don’t know if I can do that. I don’t think temporary when I think of you.”

She pounced on that one. “You think about me, then?”

“Oh yes. All the time. So much so that I’m afraid it’s going to affect my work. It already _has_ affected my work. We could have been onto Darian today if I hadn’t gone to Rotherhall.”

Her voice dropped a little. There was a strange look in her eyes. “So _what_ do you think about when you think about me?”

There wasn’t any point lying now. He needed to tell her the truth. “Happy ever after. A cottage with a vegetable garden in Rotherhall. Six kids. A _big_ cottage.”

“Oh.” She thought for a moment. “So how do you get those six kids on Barrayar?”

“For people like me, mostly the old-fashioned way. Get married, settle down, make love, make kids, body births. The count is investing in replicators, but they’re not common outside the capital. There’s only one replicator centre in New Sheffield, and that’s the only one in the District, so far.”

She was silent for a long time. What was going on behind those blue eyes of hers? _He wanted to know._ At last she reached out to take his hand.

“Does it have to be in that order?”

His pulse started to hammer again. He thought he’d got it under control. He was wrong. “What order did you have in mind?”

A smile lit her eyes. “Absolutely your choice, of course. It’s fine to say no. I thought we could perhaps start with _make love_. If that doesn’t work there’s no point worrying about the rest, is there? Does the count have rules about that sort of thing?”

“He’d be a howling hypocrite if he did. I can do what I want to do off duty. Is it what _you_ want?”

Everything went still until she nodded. “Yes, Marcus, it is. Please.”

He hauled her off the chair so fast her feet literally didn’t hit the ground, rolling back onto the bed so that she ended up on top of him. She didn’t have much on underneath her sarong, or the silky top she’d worn with it. He felt very overdressed. “I’ve still got my boots on.”

“Hmm.” She kissed one eyelid, and then the other one. “That’s an oversight. I thought armsmen were ready for anything. Be right back.” She shimmied down the bed and fumbled for the seals on his boots.

“Stop wriggling!” He clutched at her shoulders in a desperate attempt to stop her antics. As it was her breath was hot on his belly, any further down and he was in trouble. The damn boots came off at last and she hooked her fingers into his socks as well. They were much easier to dispose of. Satisfied, she started in on his shirt and pulled it out from his waistband to slide her hands up his flanks. All he had to do was raise his arms and lean slightly towards her and it was off. She’d had lots of previous practise, he would guess.

“That’s enough. My turn.” It was hard to think with her hands running over his chest every which way and her mouth at his collar bone, just where neck met shoulder. She pushed back to look down at him, her eyes alight with mischief.

“If you insist.”

“Oh, I do.” There were no fastenings on her top. His breath caught as the silk slid away over her head. Neither of them said anything for a while after that. He could only look, and marvel, and venture to touch. Flora’s eyes fluttered closed as the pad of his thumb grazed her nipple. That wasn’t enough. He leaned forwards as she arched her back to take it into his mouth. Her moan of pleasure ignited a fire, he realised somewhere at the back of his brain where thought was still possible, that would never go out. He’d love Flora until the day he died. Nothing was more certain. _He couldn’t contemplate losing her._

The rest of their clothes evaporated somehow. He didn’t even notice they’d gone until he felt her hand slide down his belly to take gentle hold of his erection. When her mouth enclosed him with soft, moist warmth it was all he could do to retain control as sweat broke out all over his body.

He stood it for as long as he could before he had to pull away. Flora murmured a half-hearted protest as he drew her back up the bed to change places, exploring down her body with hands and mouth until he found his goal. Her frantic gasp as she clutched at his hair only added to the pleasure. It seemed such a short time until she pulled urgently at his shoulders.

“Marcus…please. I want you. Now!”

He’d never imagined such sublime bliss. It was perfect. _She_ was perfect. Cycling down from the heights at last he was horrified to see tears rolling down her cheeks.

“ _Flora!_ What’s wrong? What did I do? Did I hurt you?” He anxiously scanned her features, brushing helplessly at the tears. “Did you want me to stop? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She waved a hand at him, trying to speak. At last she swallowed her emotion. “Nothing’s wrong. You were _marvellous._ I’m just overcome. That was so beautiful. I’ve never truly realised what it could be like. Oh, Marcus, just—“ She broke off, choked again _._

 _Just hold me._ Was that what she wanted? He knew he wanted nothing else. He gathered her up in his arms and held her close until she relaxed and her breathing evened out. Before he drifted off to sleep he caught up one of her long auburn tresses and smelled the wildflowers again. _Flora_. His Flora. His darling.

 

The world didn’t stop because Armsman Fox had fallen in love. She was gone when he woke up in the faint light of early dawn. The bed was still warm where she’d lain and the scent of her hair lingered on his pillow. He glanced at his chrono and swore. His boots were tumbled where she’d pushed them off the bed and his other clothes lay scattered, too. Filled with energy he rolled out of the sheets and set the boots together by his wardrobe door before scrambling into his workout gear. Walton would be waiting for him if he wasn’t quick. He didn’t look too much different in the mirror. That was a surprise. He _felt_ totally different. He hastily smoothed down his hair and checked his neck. No, she hadn’t marked him in any place that showed. No one could tell, just by looking. He slipped out of the bedroom and padded along the corridor in his socks. Her door was shut tight.

Walton was up before him and had started his stretches in the hallway. He watched as Fox fastened up his running shoes. “About time you showed up. I’d say good morning, but that would be a bit superfluous, wouldn’t it?”

“What?”

“Come off it. Just look at you— all full of vim and vigour. Just like a recruiting poster.”

Fox glowered at him. “I know what _you’re_ full of.”

Walton practically smirked. “Yeah, _jealousy._ I saw Flora just now. Come on, let’s hit the track. We have work to do today.” He said nothing more as they finished their stretching routine and slipped out onto the nearly deserted streets. There weren’t many other early risers in the park as they pounded round the running track with the sun coming up to slant through the autumn foliage on the oaks. A few leaves had started to fall already, although the air was crisp, not chill. The park was beautiful. Life was pretty damned good.

All that changed when they reached the Dower House again. Byerly Vorrutyer was up, dressed and looking grim. It had to be something _huge_ for Byerly Vorrutyer to be up and dressed and _sharp_ so early in the morning.

“There’s been another death overnight. There was an unauthorised party at an old warehouse near the shuttleport. A patroller on morning shift found her.”

Fox’s mood evaporated as the news acted as efficiently as if he’d had a cold shower “ _Her?_ Damn. And just left to die?”

“Yes, some friends she had. I’m waiting for the squad car to get here. Are you coming?”

“Five minutes. Don’t go without us.” Fox and Walton sprinted upstairs. No doubt she must have been found at first light. It took three minutes in the shower, most of that waiting for the depilatory to work, and two minutes to haul on his spare uniform. There was no time for breakfast, or to leave a message for Flora. The car was already at the door by the time they got back down stairs.

Sheridan walked over to the ground car when it arrived at the scene. The woman had been loaded on a float pallet already, waiting to be taken to the mortuary van. Byerly Vorrutyer unsealed the body bag a short way to take a look at her face. She’d been pretty, once. He reached out to touch her, but stopped himself in time. “Can’t contaminate the forensics, not that they’ll find anything.” He looked very grim as he turned back to the others. “Not even twenty-five, I would say. Do we have an identity?”

Sheridan nodded “The patroller had seen her before. She’s…she _was_ a call girl by the name of Starla Johnson. She’s well off her usual patch.”

“Shipped in for the occasion, no doubt. She must have associates. Her pimp, at the very least. You reckon it was purple popper?”

Sheridan’s face was a picture of frustration. “I’ll be amazed if it isn’t. There’s no sign indicating anything else. It’s disturbing, though. We don’t even know if she died here. She’d been moved, left out in full view, like someone is taunting us.”

“Oh, he is.” Byerly carefully sealed the body bag again and watched as she was loaded onto the transport. “That bastard has this all planned. There’s no regular bar staff to interview, no vid surveillance, no neighbours. He’s probably watching us right now. It’s obvious he wants to draw Ivan into this. I’ll have to try and persuade him to stay in Vorbarr Sultana, but I know they’re all planning to come down for the Harvest Festival in Rotherhall. That’s only two weeks away. Once he gets wind of this he’s just as likely to come charging down here. Isn’t Dr Waleska arriving today? I hope he doesn’t take it into his head to come with him.”

He dusted off his hands, as if making a decision. “We have to find Darian, and we most certainly have to find Tarpan before Ivan gets anywhere near New Sheffield.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are upset.

 

Flora hadn’t quite believed Marcus the night before when he’d said he could do what he liked off duty. It seemed like a good idea to sneak back to her room before the house woke that morning, loathe as she was to leave him. He stirred and muttered as she slipped out of his arms, but he didn’t properly wake. Five minutes earlier would have done the trick, but Adrian Walton came out of his room just as she closed the door behind her. He didn’t look angry, or even surprised to see her.

“Good morning, Flora. At least I hope you’re Flora. It’s going to be a hell of a shock if you’re not.”

She had to smile at that. “Good morning, Adrian. Don’t worry. I’m not two-timing anyone. Fiona’s fast asleep, as far as I know.”

He just gave her a nod and headed off down the stairs. She watched him ruefully for a second or two, then disappeared into her own room before anyone else could catch her. It was too early for sane people to be up and about. Lunatic armsmen could do what they liked, but she crawled back into her cold bed, to snuggle in and think about what she’d just done. What _they’d_ just done, to be accurate. Flora and Marcus, _together_. They were most certainly compatible. Flora pushed the complications to the back of her mind and smiled as she contemplated the past few hours. She didn’t want to think about _problems_ now, when there was that gorgeous body to remember.

The Dower House was quiet when Flora woke again. She’d slept late. After a quick shower she headed downstairs. Fiona and Sela were alone in the dining room; it looked like they’d just finished eating. There were serving dishes on the sideboard and tea and coffee pots on the table.

“Good morning, sleepy head.” Fiona poured her a cup of tea. “What time of day do you call this?”

Flora sipped her drink. She felt ravenous. “What time is it? I hope there’s some food left.”

“0900. Sela hasn’t eaten a thing so there’s plenty left. There’s groats, or spiced bread. See if you can get to like groats. I think they’re better suited to your namesake, myself. Maybe they’d be better with lots of maple syrup. _That_ I can get to like.”

Flora took a proper look at Sela. The herm was pale and listless. “Still not well, Sela? I really think it’s something hormonal. A virus or a bug would have resolved itself one way or the other by now.”

Sela shrugged. “I got no sleep after 0500. I’m worried about Byerly. He went out hours ago, with Fox and Walton, and all I’ve had is a _don’t worry_ message. Why does he _do_ that? He knows I’ll worry anyway.”

“Marcus won’t let him come to any harm, Adrian neither. It’s more than worry, Sela. You need to see a doctor.”

“I’d have to go back to Vorbarr Sultana to do that. I don’t like to leave you two on your own. The count asked me to look after you.”

Flora felt for its pulse and laid the back of her hand on its forehead. “The count will understand. You don’t have a fever and your pulse is only a little bit elevated, or it could even be normal for you. You need some blood tests to sort this out.”

Sela sighed. “I think you’re right. I’ll talk to Byerly.”

She squeezed its arm. “You certainly don’t have to worry about us. Dr Waleska will be arriving today and we start work tomorrow. There’s no way we’ll be able to get into any mischief after that. We’ll be too exhausted. I think we’ve had enough adventure already. Apart from working on the mask data for Darek I’m planning on finding a day spa if you have such things. It’ll be my last chance to pamper myself.”

Fiona had been studying her sister intently. “And I’m planning on hearing all the goss. Come on Flo, out with it. What have you been up to?”

Flora felt herself go a little warm. “Marcus and I had a mutually satisfactory cross-cultural exchange last night. I think we’ve cleared up some misunderstandings.”

“Oh…I see. So how good _is_ he in the sack? Or are Barrayaran men the Barbarians we’ve always been told they are?”

Sela sniffed. “They’re not Barbarians at all, when you get to know them. My Barrayaran isn’t, any way. I can’t speak for all of them but Byerly is thoughtful and sensitive. Of course, _he’s_ an artist, not a hulking great armsman. They might be a totally different story.” It waited expectantly.

Flora wasn’t going to escape her sister’s curiosity, or Sela’s either, by the look of things. Did she really want to? She felt her mouth break into a beaming smile all by itself. Joy did that to you, sometimes. “He is absolutely _fantastic_. I’m done for, Fi. I think I’ve found Mr Right at last.”

Fiona looked frankly envious. “Wow, that good? And you beat me to it, too. I wish I hadn’t got so peeved off with Adrian last night, but if he makes love the way he kisses I don’t think I’ll have a problem. I can’t wait to find out.”

There was no sign of them by lunch time. Sela felt a lot better so they headed out to the Square for a meal and a visit to the beauty salon the old Countess Vorclarence had used to patronise. The Barrayaran exchange rate wasn’t too bad so they could afford to splurge this once. Glancing through the list of treatments, Flora had to bite her lip.

“Hey, Fiona, should we try this one? Exotic Tau Verde silica mud wrap?”

Fiona burst out laughing. “I don’t think so. I’ve seen enough mud to last me for years. What about the cucumber and rosewater shampoo? That sounds more like it.”

It would be lovely to indulge in a spot of special pampering, Sela included. The word herm was never mentioned. Flora had the feeling it had been made an honorary female for the afternoon. They only had facials, manicures and their hair done anyway, so it didn’t make a great deal of difference. Their manicures were pretty basic, too, as they needed short nails with no polish for nursing.

The beauty therapists were fascinated by the twins, so much so that they all ended up with complimentary makeup. It wasn’t the fact that they were identical but rather their unique combinations of eye, skin and hair colour. Sela’s blond hair was so unusual for Barrayarans, too, especially in Voralys District. They were fussed over as much as anyone could wish.

“I do feel better,” Sela remarked as they exited back out onto the square again. “Byerly is right. I worry too much. What would you like to do now, ladies?”

Flora still hadn’t looked at the scanner data. “I need to go home and work. The others should be back by now, surely? Anyone had a message?”

They’d all handed over their wrist coms to reception when they’d gone into the spa. Sela yelped as it looked at its com.

“Oh, no! Byerly’s been trying to get me! There’s an emergency and he’s had to go back to Vorbarr Sultana. I think I’ve missed him.”

It looked so miserable it made up Flora’s mind for her. “That settles it. You, my friend, are on the next shuttle home. Let’s get back to the Dower House. We’ll help you pack.”

“I feel so guilty. Here we were enjoying ourselves and Byerly could be in danger. I think I should go back, if you’re sure you’ll be all right.”

“Byerly’s fine, Sela. Don’t start worrying again. Come on, let’s get home. Where do we book you a seat on a shuttle? I’ll sort that out while Fiona helps you. Philip Nicolaides will know. I’ll get on to him and explain.”

The count’s secretary was nothing if not efficient. Flora only had to tell her story the once before he arranged a seat for Sela on the lightflyer going back to Vorbarr Sultana after dropping off Doctor and Madame Waleska. All they had to do was get it and its luggage over to the District Office before 1700 hrs.

“Armsman Sarmiento is already on his way, so I’ll let him know to wait for Thorne. He’ll take care of everything. Just report at the reception desk and it should all be arranged. Do you need another liaison? I can easily find a local for you.”

It wouldn’t hurt him to smile, but Flora realised she was being a bit unfair. She was just another employee, after all. Still, _she_ could smile, and she did.

“No, thank you. Sela’s already shown us everything we need to be going on with. We can always ask Dr Waleska if we have any problems.”

“That’s fine then. With the doctor and his lady taking up residence at the Residence the two armsmen down there have been re-tasked to guard duties. They’ll be out of your hair tonight, if they haven’t gone already. There’ll be Municipal Guard patrols keeping an eye on the place, though, so you have nothing to worry about. Good luck with the new job.”

He cut the com before Flora could say a word. She stared at the blank vid screen as the dismay started to build. _What_? Marcus and Adrian were moving out? They might already be gone!

Flora dashed up to the bedrooms to find out. It was true. Both Marcus’ and Adrian’s bedrooms were empty, apart from the packed bags ready to go set at the end of each bed. Just when had he been planning to tell her? He hadn’t even bothered to leave a message on her com. Hurt beyond measure, Flora wandered blindly in to Sela’s bedroom, where it and Fiona where just finishing up the packing.

Fiona looked up as she came in. “We’re nearly done—what in the world is wrong with you?” Her sister raced over to guide Flora to the single chair in the room. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“They’re leaving. Adrian and Marcus are leaving. Their bags are all packed. He didn’t bother to tell me.”

Fiona put her hands on her hips and just stared. “It’s not like you to be a drama queen. They wouldn’t be leaving by choice, I’m sure. They must have been given new orders.”

“He hasn’t even bothered to leave me a message.”

“Well perhaps he wanted to tell you in person! Have you checked for missed calls?”

No, she hadn’t, and there they were, three missed calls while she’d been having her hair and makeup done. “Oh.”

“Exactly. _Oh_. We won’t tell him you had so little faith in him. Adrian tried to call me, too, and now he’s not answering. I’m sure they’ll get back to us when they can. What did you organise for Sela?”

Flora had to shake her head to try and clear her thoughts. What a fool! Her relationship with Marcus was so new and so fragile. Her reaction when she thought he was happy to go without a word showed her how precious it was, too. She had to bite her lip to stop herself bursting into tears.

“Flora? What does Sela have to do?”

“Sorry, sorry. It gets to go back by lightflyer. All we need to do is arrive at the District Office by 1730. Armsman Sarmiento will take you home, Sela.”

Sela relaxed at last “Well, in that case, we’ve got time for a cup of tea and a piece of Ma Walton’s excellent cake. Who’s going to break the news to her, by the way?”

“What news? That the armsmen are leaving already?”

“Well, yes, but Armsman Fox won’t be here for his birthday cake, will he? She’s been talking about it for two days straight.”

Ma Walton wasn’t as disappointed as they feared. She was quite philosophical about it. “That’s a shame. One thing I got used to with Bart was him disappearing at the most inconvenient times. I used to think the old count planned it on purpose. I still think that. Armsmen are just treated like dogsbodies some times. The count just has to lift a finger and they go running. I’ll take his cake around to the District House. They know me there.”

Fiona wasn’t happy. “Pooh. Then _we_ won’t get any. You make the best cakes, Ma Walton. What do you call this one? I really like the coating, or whatever it is.”

“It’s a Princess cake. That’s a marzipan outer layer, made from almonds.”

“Byerly and I got married in an almond orchard,” Sela told them. “It was the most romantic thing, right after the count and his mother both got married as well. Not to each other, of course. The Emperor himself er…suggested it, I suppose you could say.”

Fiona smiled at it. “Adrian told me about throwing handfuls of almond petals over you. I can’t quite imagine it, myself.”

“He absolutely did, and the Emperor’s armsman as well. They didn’t flinch. Byerly cried. He pretended he didn’t, but I saw him with tears in his eyes.” Sela’s expression softened as it remembered its wedding day. “I love Byerly so much. He’s a wicked, wicked man, but I wouldn’t be without him.”

“Hang on a minute.” It was Flora’s turn to quiz her sister. “Just when did you have this conversation with Adrian? I don’t remember it.”

Fiona just shrugged. “I don’t remember when, exactly. When we were down at the farm, I think. Maybe it was just before lunch, when he showed my the almond trees. That would be it.”

 _Yeah, right, Sis._ Flora didn’t believe a word of it, but this wasn’t getting the contouring done. She had to force herself to concentrate, but they were here to work. It was easy to forget that. Sela went back to its room to have a _little lie down_ until it was time to leave and Fiona hung over Flora’s shoulder to give her good advice. Flora humoured her for as long as she could, but it was never going to last. After about ten minutes she pushed her chair back. “Why don’t I just give you a copy of the raw data and you can do your own contouring? You seem to know all about it.”

“Ooh, _meow_. I was only trying to help. You’re the one that did the advanced course. I’m more interested in the follicle replication. Perhaps I should go and study up on that.”

“Hmm.” Flora loved her sister dearly, really she did, but sometimes… “Yes, I think that might be a great idea. Darek’s hair colour looked fairly common, but you never know with these Barrayarans. Expect the unexpected. Like almond petals.”

Fiona finally took the hint. Flora got a good, solid half-hour’s work under her belt before she heard the front door open as Marcus and Adrian returned at last. Her heart thumped into her throat and she jumped to her feet. Would he come looking for her? Her hormones hadn’t raged this much since she was a spotty teenager. Bugger that. She’d go looking for _him_.

Marcus had his hand outstretched to open the door as she wrenched it back. They both pulled up short.

“Oh! There you are.” She tried not to look like a lovestruck fool. She was pretty sure it didn’t work.

“I was just coming to find you.” He hesitated for a moment, then strode into the parlour and closed the door behind him. “You’re even more gorgeous than I remembered. I like the way you’ve done your hair. I missed you this morning. Why did you leave?”

“I…don’t really know. I guess I didn’t want to get you into trouble.”

“You wouldn’t have. I told you that. I…I wish you’d stayed, Flora.”

She shrugged. “I wish I’d stayed, too.” Her voice dropped. “It was wonderful, Marcus. I…hope we can do it again sometime.”

He looked rueful. "Not any time soon. That’s what I came to tell you.”

“I know already. You have to move back to the District House to look after Dr Waleska. Philip Nicolaides told me.”

He didn’t try to make excuses. “I’m sorry, Flora. More than I can say.”

“Ma Walton warned me. You’re at the count’s beck and call.”

He rubbed a hand across his face. “He’s not that bad. He’s actually very fair, but this is different. There’s a real threat to his family. Vorrutyer’s gone back to Vorbarr Sultana to try and stop him coming here, but knowing the count like I do he’s not going to let Lucas Tarpan dictate his actions. Tarpan’s counting on that, of course.”

“It’s not too bad. We’ll be working with the doctor. We should see you nearly every day.”

He agreed. “Yes, and I’ll have days off.”

“I don’t think I will, for a while. It’s going to get pretty hectic.” She still felt guilty about doubting him. “When I saw your cases, just now, I thought you were going to leave and not say goodbye.”

“I’d never do that, Flora. I’m not Vor, but I give you my word. My name’s word, if you like. I don’t ever want to leave you. I’m terrified that you’re going to leave _me_.”

She had to catch her breath at the expression on his face and the intensity of his voice. She had to reassure him somehow. A kiss seemed like a good idea.

It wasn’t a good idea. It was an excellent idea. They had to pull away when things began to get heated.

His smile was endearingly tender. “Wow. We’d better find the others and get going. I take it you’re coming to see Sela off?”

She nodded. “Yes, and to meet Admiral Waleska again. We need to arrange our schedule for tomorrow.”

The Armsmen made short work of carrying their own and Sela’s bags across the square. They were waiting in the reception area when the lift tube disgorged the doctor and his wife. Armsman Sarmiento appeared out of the freight tube with their luggage on a float pallet. All too soon it was time to say goodbye.

“Mind you let us know how you get on with the doctor,” Fiona warned it. “We really hope it’s nothing too serious.”

Sela hugged them goodbye and disappeared in Sarmiento’s wake. Flora and Fiona were left to shake hands with Dr Waleska and be introduced to his wife. Aceline Waleska smiled as he shook hands.

“Stefan is just dying to get out to the hospital and see how the renovations are going. I’m going to go and unpack all these bags, so I won’t need him for an hour.”

The doctor grinned at her. “She wants me out of her hair. Would you like to accompany me, ladies, and get an idea of the layout?”

“Sure, we’d love to.” _Especially if Marcus was going to escort them_ , Flora thought.

They left Harper behind to deal with Madame Waleska and the luggage. It was only a few minute’s drive to the hospital where Doctor Waleska led them through a maze of corridors to the west wing. A sign set above a pair of swing doors proclaimed the entrance to the unit.

Fiona read it out loud. “The Anna and Thomas Watson Memorial Burns Unit. Who were they?”

“They were wonderful friends,” Marcus told her, “and Miss Marie’s mother and father. Tom was killed in the line of duty and Anna died in the bomb attack in the Great Square.”

Fiona seemed to realise Marcus was quite moved by the sign. She laid a hand on his arm. “They’ll be remembered for a long time.”

Dr Waleska placed his palm on the reader. “Shall we go in? I want to show off my babies. They arrived when I was on Beta. I haven’t seen them yet.”

“What did?” Flora had a sudden, uneasy feeling that she wasn't going to like the answer.

The doctor indicated a suite of treatment rooms. “My brand new Mark III body scanner, and my new follicle replicator. We’ve already got three skin replicators ready to roll. There’s only the two body scanners in the whole of Vorbarr Sultana. Did you know?” 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the ladies to start work, Fox's birthday arrives at last and Walton makes his feelings clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROFUSE apologies in advance. There'll be no chapter next week, and possibly the week after. Life is intervening at the moment and I will be MIA.

Marcus Fox let out a bark of laughter at the expression on Flora’s face. He tried to turn away and pretend he’d coughed, but no one bought it. The doctor looked surprised, verging on outraged. He was more than a little upset. Fiona looked chagrined, and Flora…Flora burst out laughing too.

“We’re so sorry, Doctor,” she managed at last. “You obviously haven’t heard what happened. I nearly got myself arrested, if not worse, complaining to Count Voralys that there were only two body scanners in Vorbarr Sultana, and one of them is out of order. I…er…I suppose I’d better explain.”

Dr Waleska listened in growing incredulity as Flora spelled out what she’d done. Fiona added her part of the tale and he held his head in his hands. “You _kicked_ an armsman? You actually assaulted Walton? You may as well have assaulted the count and been done with it, you do realise?”

She nodded. “Guilty as charged, but we did buy them cake when we found out how bad it was to do that, and we’re forgiven now. We wrote to the count, too, and said sorry.”

“No wonder Ivan was a bit odd with me this morning. I thought it was just a general warning to keep my team in line. It looks like he wasn’t joking.”

Fiona shook her head. “No, he wasn’t joking. It sounds like he’s still very upset with us. We’re really sorry. Lady Alys was very gracious, though. She let us use her couturier scanner. Flora says it’s almost exactly the same thing, only different.”

Fiona tailed off at the look on the good doctor’s face. Flora hurriedly intervened. As unobtrusively as she could she trod on Fiona’s toe. Comparing the Mark III to a dressmaker’s aid hadn’t gone down well at all.

“It was good enough for me sort out the preliminary parameters. Of course Darek will have to be properly assessed to get the refinements we need. I can’t wait to start work with this beauty.” She ran a hand over the control panel of the scanner. It was only then she noticed the little plaque set into the housing. _Donated by the Vorpatril family trust in memory of Lord Padma Xav Vorpatril._ She sucked in a deep breath. “Did Lady Alys buy this scanner?” She waited for Dr Waleska to nod in affirmation. “She knew all along this was here!”

Fox had to grin again. “Apparently so.” He waited for her to say something, but for once she was utterly speechless. “She does tend to be inscrutable at times.”

The rest of the tour passed off uneventfully. After the scanner it was all a bit of an anticlimax as far as Fox was concerned. They didn’t go into the operating rooms. There was no sense in risking contamination, even when they would be fully irradiated before every procedure. The whole suite was cleverly laid out, as far as Fox could tell. Fiona and Flora were well impressed. They stopped to check out the cartons of supplies waiting to be unpacked. There was even a case of the gamma argulase Fiona had used on Walton. The doctor had thought of everything. She nodded her approval.

“I can see you intend to be a best practice facility, Doctor. All of this is wonderful.”

He looked pensive as he studied the stores. “I only wish I had some of this technology aboard ship. When I look back some of my patch-up jobs were less than the men deserved.”

Fox had been on the other end of one of the Doc’s patch-up jobs. He was selling himself short. “You were very well-respected back then, Dr Wally. I never heard a single complaint about your treatment. We considered ourselves lucky to have you looking out for us. We still do.”

Dr Waleska smiled briefly, although it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks, Fox. That actually means a lot to me, but there were still too many men who were short-changed. ImpMil is full of them.”

“Well, you can do something about that now, sir, even if it is only one at a time, starting with Darek Belka. When are you bringing him down here?”

They left the wing and headed back to the car. The doctor spelled out his plans. “We’ll get him down here for a quick day trip once the scanner is calibrated. That should be this week sometime. When I hear Dr Wrachmann is aboard ship I'll aim to operate six weeks after that. That’s three weeks for him to get here, a week for him to settle in, and two weeks of training for the team. We’ll have the grafts well on the way by then so the sooner we get started on those the better. What do you think, ladies? We get Belka down here five days from now? Will that be enough time for the march in? Er, I mean the shakedown?”

“March in works for me,” Flora told him. “Two days to unpack then a day running all the trials on the equipment. Four days to work up the procedure manuals as we’re not starting from scratch. He can come any time once we’ve got the one for the scanner done, so we’ll do that first. We can take the donation for the follicle replicator at the same time. Do you have local personnel to train as well?”

“I’m planning on it. I have four so far. They’ll take their orders from you. It’s a pretty labour-intensive field, as you well know. Once we have the full team organised I don’t see why we can’t plan on a graft a week. Not all of them will be as complex as Belka’s, but I can order more replicators if needed. I have three at the moment, as you saw. Patients will stay on the ward for two weeks, then there’s another month of outpatient treatment with follow ups by their own physicians. I don’t think I’m being too ambitious.”

Flora agreed. “A graft a week is fine, if there’s the demand for it. We only did one or two a month on Beta.”

“You don’t have open fires on Beta, do you?” He looked grim again. “Once we’ve worked through the backlog of military cases we’ll have the civilian ones lining up. I’ll warn you now many of those will be paediatric ones. If it’s not from fireplaces we always have a new crop around Winterfair, and the Emperor’s Birthday.” He saw their puzzled expressions. “ _Fireworks_.”

“Oh. Oh dear. Yes, I can see we’ll be busy. We’ll be here for Winterfair.” Flora looked at Fox in sudden realisation. “I don’t know about the Emperor’s Birthday. That’s nearly a year away, isn’t it?”

Dr Waleska didn’t notice the sudden tension between them. “Yes, that’s right. We’ll have to do our best to persuade you to stay, won’t we? There’s always room for talent like yours.”

 

Fox didn’t see much of Flora in person for the next two days. He caught a glimpse of her the once, looking trim and businesslike in her Voralys uniform, when he dropped off Dr Waleska at the hospital. The doctor didn’t require a bodyguard when he was on duty as hospital security took care of it. Fox’s evenings were filled with intelligence gathering, not that they were getting anywhere, and the ladies were busy, too, working long hours to set up the burns unit. They talked, of course, on the com, but that wasn’t anywhere near as good as being in the same room with her. Being in the same _bed_ with her was what he desperately wanted. He had to make do with crumbs of comfort, talking to her via vid link, when he could see the fall of her hair, her warm smile and the way her eyes changed when she paused in what she was saying just to look at him.

Walton wasn’t any better off, either. He reverted to his unsmiling, reserved self apart from the couple of calls he made to Fiona. At least Fox knew how to deal with Walton in his normal mood. They tramped kilometres of streets in search of information, on their own and in the company of the Municipal Guard, but it was as if Tarpan and even Darian had given up and gone home to Ma. _If only they had_.

On the Wednesday morning there was a stack of messages waiting for him from everyone in Vorbarr Sultana. The count called him up on the vid link.

“Happy Birthday, Fox. How does it feel to be an old man?”

“Thanks, My Lord Count. It doesn’t feel any different from yesterday, just at the moment.”

“We can’t have you not mark the day somehow. I’ve had a word with Wally and you and Walton can have the evening off. Major Karasavas is coming for dinner and I think you’ll agree that’s all the security he needs. Walton has volunteered to cover the night watch, so he’ll come back when the good major is ready to go home. You just need to turn up for start of shift tomorrow morning. 0700 hours.”

“I’d love to know what Walton’s been saying to you, sir.” Fox was going to have a few words of his own to say to Armsman Walton, but now was not the time.

The count gave him an evil grin. “Only that the two of you are getting along quite well with our guests. I’m glad to hear it. It looked like the start of another interplanetary conflict when you all left here. I take it everything is back on an even keel now? They’ve calmed down?”

“Yes, sir. Admiral Waleska seems to be very happy with the Dunbars.”

“Yes, he’s told me that himself. They may be a feisty pair but at least they’re professional when it counts. You enjoy your evening, Fox. That other matter is going nowhere fast. Forget about it for a few hours.”

“Thank you, sir. I will. I mean I hope to.”

The count cut the vid. Fox ran through the rest of his messages, answering as many of the well-wishers as he could. He had to smile at the drawing Miss Marie had done for him. She was such a darling. Her mother had been, too. Fox could think about Anna now. She was a dear memory, nothing more. She’d chosen Tom, after all, and now he had another chance.

Walton looked like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth when they ran through their weight training in the gym that morning. He had the same innocent look on his face at breakfast. It annoyed the hell out of him. They’d just finished drinking their tea when Walton produced a slim package. “Happy Birthday.”

Fox’s suspicions clicked up a notch. “This is for me? It’s not going to go off, is it?”

“Of course not. I figured it’s something you might find a use for.”

He reached over and picked it up, hefting it in his hand. It wasn’t very heavy. “Well, thank you, Walton. This is very kind of you.”

“Why don’t you open it, instead of trying to use X-ray vision?”

He picked up his knife and slit the seal. It looked like a toiletry bag. It _was_ a toiletry bag, but on a much reduced scale. The only full size item was the toothbrush. There were single sachets of depilatory, shampoo and cologne, and a deodorant wipe. He found a tiny comb and tube of tooth cleaner.

Walton explained. “It’ll fit in your pocket, just in case there’s an emergency or an opportunity and you have to stop overnight somewhere, or anything like that. You don’t want to look presumptuous, turning up with an overnight bag, now, do you? This way, if you get lucky, _again_ , you jammy sod, you’re ready for it. I bought myself one while I was at it. The refills are in the ready room.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t thought quite that far ahead, but with the evening off and no duty until tomorrow morning, perhaps… “ _Oh_. Thank you, Walton. I hope it does come in handy. The count told me you’ve volunteered for security cover tonight, too. I really appreciate it. I should be able to return the favour, if the chance arises.”

“I’m sure it will. I’m going to make damn sure it does, in fact. Come on, Dr Wally will be leaving soon. We’d better get our butts into gear.”

The day dragged by. Guard Commander Sheridan looked more frustrated every time Fox saw him. They were getting precisely nowhere. Everything had gone very quiet on the drugs scene. It was like some monstrous puppet show, with Tarpan pulling the strings. The victims weren’t puppets, though. They’d been flesh and blood, once-live bait in his bid to lure Count Voralys away from Vorbarr Sultana and into his snare. Byerly Vorrutyer had managed to stall the count for a while, but it wasn’t going to last. He’d be down here sooner rather than later, and his armsmen might well be hard-pressed to protect him. The worry nagged at him. _Was Tarpan smart enough to get the better of them?_

Fox and Walton returned to the District House that afternoon, baffled once again. They marched across the square in perplexed silence, thwarted by the complete lack of intelligence out there. As they passed _The Tea Kettle_ and came abreast of the little florist next door to it Fox stopped suddenly.

“We should take some flowers tonight. Your Ma would like some, too. Flora said she’s spent a lot of time on my birthday cake.”

“Yeah, sure. Why not?” Walton glanced at his chrono. “We’ve got ten minutes up our sleeves before we have to go collect the Doc.”

For such a small shop there was a bewildering choice, even this late in the season. Roses were always special, but Fox didn’t think Flora was a roses sort of woman. He dithered. They were going to be late if he didn’t make up his mind soon. In no time Walton had a really pretty posy of carnations picked out for his Ma, and an absolutely beautiful spray of blooms in lilac and white for Fiona. In desperation Fox reached out for some gerberas.

Walton looked like he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Geez, you have to be joking! Pink and orange? Have you _no_ taste?”

Fox shrugged his shoulders. “Apparently not. You’re the one that’s had all the lessons. What do you suggest?”

“For a classy lady like Flora?" He looked around. “Here. What about these?" He plucked two bunches of calla lillies out of their buckets, one white and the other a graduated coral. Under the bemused eye of Fox and the florist both he neatly fashioned a superb globe, all the more beautiful for its simplicity. He handed it over to the florist for her to trim the ends and secure the bunch. All Fox had to do was pay for it.

“See how easy that was?”

“For you, maybe. You’ve been hiding your light under a bushel,” Fox remarked as they left the shop and jogged back to the District House. It was only a couple of minutes away, but they needed to hurry to get out to the hospital. “Lady Alys is going to be so proud of you. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Walton looked at the flowers in some bewilderment. “Neither did I. Some of those godawful lessons must have rubbed off after all.”

Fox fidgeted with the flowers and shifted his weight from one foot to another as he waited for the door to the Dower House to open. They could have walked straight in, of course, with a palm scan, but that would have been presumptuous, as Walton had called it this morning. They didn’t live there any more. He could feel the toiletries bag like a lead weight in his pocket. Would Flora want him to stay over? He’d soon find out.

Ma Walton opened the door at last, after she’d had a good look at them through the security screen. “Adrian! Hello dear. Happy Birthday, Marcus. Why ever didn’t you just come straight in? I’ll take you on through to the kitchen. I don’t think the ladies want you in the front parlour just yet. It’s all very mysterious. You can’t really call it a surprise party, though, can you?”

She chatted away until Walton thrust the bunch of carnations at her. “Here, Ma, these are from Fox and me. Thank you for looking after us, and for making the cake. I can’t wait to see it.”

She looked like they’d just given her the Imperial jewels. She buried her face in them for a moment. “It’s so good to have you boys home here in New Sheffield. Bart used to buy me carnations. Did you remember, Adrian, or is it just a coincidence?”

Walton gave her a shamefaced grin. “I never knew that, Ma. I wasn’t around home long enough to notice.”

She sat them down at the kitchen table while she bustled around to find a vase. Her head was buried in a cupboard but she still talked over her shoulder at the two of them. “It’s so wonderful that you’re getting on so well with Flora and Fiona. I’m pretty sure they like you both, too, from what I’ve seen.” She emerged with a vase and turned on the tap to fill it just as the door opened again. She raised her voice over the noise of the water. “Do you think Fiona is the one for you, Adrian? I don’t want to see you hurt. She’s a foreigner, after all. She might want to go home again.”

Fiona stopped short in the doorway with Flora right behind her. She’d heard every word. Walton, facing the door as usual, stared at her with that powerful intensity Fox had seen just the once before.

Walton spoke quite softly. “Ma, I _crave_ her presence. When she smiles at me the sun shines in the sky. I think about her when I close my eyes, and when I open them again. There won’t be anyone else. If Fiona goes back to Beta, my heart’s going to go with her.”

Belatedly, Ma Walton turned around and saw Fiona standing there. A tide of colour washed up from her neck. “Oh! Hello, Fiona. I’m just going to take these through to the front parlour. Aren’t they beautiful? Adrian brought them for me. I’ll be right back.” She scuttled out past them as fast as her legs would take her.

Flora gave Fox a wide-eyed stare. “Happy birthday, Marcus. Do you want to come and see your cake?”

“Absolutely. Here, I brought these for you.” He thrust the bouquet at her and followed her back along the corridor, only stopping to close the door behind him. Neither of them said a word until they reached the parlour. There was no sign of Ma Walton or her flowers.

Flora fanned at her face. “Phew! I thought last time was intense, but that has to be the most romantic declaration ever! He didn’t give a damn who else heard him, did he?”

“Nope.” Fox took a step towards her. “The thing is—” He broke off for a moment and took a deep breath. “The thing is, Flora, I wish _I’d_ said that. Please don’t go back to Beta.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can see Walton's creations here, along with other inspirations for the various stories.
> 
>  
> 
> https://www.pinterest.com.au/micenko/the-au-adventures-of-ivan-vorpatril/


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday Armsman Fox

The armsman looked at her and bit his lip before blurting out, “Stay on Barrayar, Flora. Stay with _me_. Please.”

The air left Flora’s chest in a rush. Her mouth wouldn’t work and her brain wouldn’t think. All she could do was look at Marcus and see the laid-bare emotion expressed in his eyes. It was very special, and it was for _her_. It was raw. No-one else could have seen that look, surely, or else he would have been partnered years ago. It was impossible to withstand and as her wits came back to her the realisation firmed into a certain truth. _She_ _didn’t_ _want_ _to_ withstand the need he so clearly felt for her. There were a thousand obstacles in their way, not the least of them her own past. She took refuge in the flowers, still clasped in her hands. She gazed down at them and ran a tentative finger along the edge of a creamy bloom.

“These are so beautiful. Fresh flowers are such a luxury on Beta, and yet everyone just takes them for granted here.”

When she looked back at him she could feel tears gathering in her eyes, ready to spill over down her cheeks. Her throat closed over as she tried to speak again. What she wanted to say had to be forced past a massive obstruction. She could only manage to whisper. “I don’t want to go, but Marcus, you don’t _know_ me. You don’t know what I’m like.”

He relaxed and closed the rest of the distance until he could reach out to her. “Everything else we can work through. I know all I need to know about you.”

She leaned forward against him so she didn’t have to look him in the eye. “No. No you don’t. And we have to talk about it, but not tonight. Tonight we’re going to celebrate.”

He took her head in his hands and tilted it up a little to kiss her. “That works for me. Don’t squish those flowers, though. They’re the work of a genius. Where’s this cake? Do you suppose Fiona and Walton want some?”

She managed a smile, but it must have looked awfully watery. “Do _you_ suppose I’m going to be brave enough to go and find out? You suppose wrongly, if you do.”

“I’ll get them. I’m not a sensitive romantic.” He dashed off back out of the parlour to thump on the kitchen door. “Oi, you two! Break it up. It’s cake time.”

Flora heard him shout up the stairs, too. “Ma Walton, are you up there? It’s safe to come out now. We can’t have cake without you.”

Flora blinked her tears away before he got back. _Not a sensitive romantic?_ Who was he trying to kid? She had the candles lit and a bottle of champagne ready to go as Fox escorted Ma Walton back to the parlour, complete with the vase of carnations. He took it from her and set it down on the table next to the cake. Fiona and Walton followed them in without a hair out of place and looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths. It didn’t escape Flora’s notice that they were holding hands, though. She traded looks with her sister. Fiona’s brow quirked a little in a silent message. She was very well pleased with herself, ecstatic, in fact.

After suitable oohs and aahs and candle-blowing she handed Marcus the knife.

“I think Ma Walton has surpassed herself. This looks _fantastic_. You cut and I’ll pass round.”

Walton popped the champagne and served the drinks. There wasn’t much to be said for a few minutes as they all munched on brillberry torte. It was excellent. Ma Walton disappeared again as soon as she’d finished her slice, though, leaving half a glass of champagne behind. Flora stifled a giggle at the look she gave her son as he held the door open for her. She may as well have admonished him aloud. _Don’t mess this up._

Adrian and Fiona sat down side by side on the couch without the room to slip a flimsy between them. Somehow Flora ended up on Marcus’ lap in the big leather chair by the fire, her sarong and silk top very little barrier to the strength of his muscled legs and arms. She could feel the heat of his body warming her own skin. With a little snuggle she laid her head on his shoulder. It felt right. “So what would you like to do tonight, Marcus? Go dancing?”

Fiona looked dismayed. “I want to stay in. Adrian and I have a lot to _talk_ about.”

Walton slipped his arm around her shoulders. He sounded so regretful. “I have to report back by 22.00 hours. It’s only Fox who has the night off. I’m sorry.”

"Oh!" Shock washed over her features. “That’s only three hours away. Less, in fact. That’s not fair.”

He sighed. “It never is, but that’s what I signed up for.” At her glower of displeasure he added, “If I wasn’t an armsman I never would have met you, don’t forget.”

She still wasn’t happy, but there wasn’t really anything she could say. Flora felt Fox shift uncomfortably underneath her before he asked a question. “May I have a word with you, Flora, in private?”

“Er, sure. If you’ll excuse us, please, Adrian and Fiona, we’ll be right back.” A bit mystified she scrambled to her feet and led Marcus out into the hall. “What’s all this about?”

He took hold of both of her hands and looked at her, opened his mouth and closed it again as he shifted weight from foot to foot. Perhaps she wasn’t going to like this. “Come on, out with it. Betans like straight talking.”

He shrugged. “OK.” She waited. He finally found the words. “Walton volunteered to take night guard so that I could spend the time here with you, only if you wanted me to, of course. I want to stay, more than anything, but how would you feel if I swapped back with him? He hasn’t had a chance to…er…you know. Like we did.”

They were a band of brothers, these armsmen types. Here he was, the big dope, willing to give up his birthday treat so that Walton didn’t miss out. She didn’t know whether to love him more or thump him. What about _her_ treat, though? She cycled through disappointment to resignation to acceptance. It was usually her sister and herself who looked out for each other and Fiona hadn’t had a chance to _…er…you know_ either. Flora sighed. _The things she did_. Fi had better just be grateful. She tried to look upset.

“Well, here’s a thing! I was all set to invite you up for a sleepover. If we’ve only got three hours we’d better not waste any of it. You go back in and tell them. Oh, and put my flowers in some water and bring what’s left of the bottle of champagne. They might find a use for the cake. I’ll see you upstairs. You know where my room is.”

He squeezed her hands. “Thank you. You’ve just made Ma Walton a very happy lady.”

She swatted at his arm. “Get out of here, before I change my mind. You’d better set your alarm before you come up, too. I intend to make you forget all about the time.”

The pupils of his eyes vanished away to nothing. “I intend to remember every second of it. Be right back.”

Flora ran up the stairs to her room and nipped into the bathroom to brush her teeth and undo the knot in her hair. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at herself in the mirror, and there was a subtle flush of anticipation in her cheeks, or was that straight out arousal? Marcus was taking his own sweet time getting up here. They were on a countdown, for heaven’s sake!

When he did appear he held a vase with her flowers in one hand and plate of cake with two forks in the other. There was no sign of the champagne.

“Fiona says she owes you one. Walton didn’t say much at all but he looked plenty. You know what he’s like.”

Flora put her hands on her hips and pouted at him. “What happened to the bubbly? I was looking forward to that.”

He shrugged and tried to look apologetic. “I forgot. If I’m going to do the duty I can’t drink. I’ve already had the one and that’s all I’m allowed. The others can make better use of it.”

“Party pooper.” Flora advanced on him and took the cake away to put it on the bedside table. She placed the flowers on the mantel over the fireplace, stood back to look at them, then moved them a few centimetres. “You know I’m going to make you sorry you did that.”

She could see his chest moving rapidly as his breathing quickened. “Oh, dear. Should I beg for mercy now?”

She started in on his shirt buttons. Her own breathing wasn’t quite normal, not surprising in the circumstances. “Too late. Take your punishment like a man.”

The shirt came off at last, with his chrono and stunner holster. He was just as gorgeous as she remembered, with divine muscle definition and just a smattering of dark hair narrowing down to his waistband. “Get rid of those damn boots.”

She turned away from him for a few seconds as he sat on the bed and disposed of the offending boots and socks. No, he couldn’t see what she planned to do. _Excellent_. She slid her fingers into the cake and scooped up a decent handful. As his arm slid around her waist to pull her back she whirled around and slapped cake fair and square in the middle of his chest.

“Bring me cake, would you, when I wanted champagne? See how you like that!”

It was a fight she was never going to win. After his first gasp of outrage he hauled her over into a tight embrace. Obviously, if he was going to wear cake she was, too. She burst out into a fit of laughter. “Oh, don’t get it on the bed. Ma Walton will kill us. Brillberry _stains_. She told us.”

She twisted away and darted for the bathroom with him hot on her heels. She held out her arms to fend him off as she retreated backwards towards the shower. “Perhaps I should clean that off.”

“Perhaps you should.” He stood still, cake smeared in a brillberry streak across his broad chest. “How do you plan to do that?”

“It’s very good cake. It seems a shame to waste it.” She advance again, to run her tongue across his left nipple. “Mmm. It does taste good.”

To give him his due he withstood it longer than she believed possible. His whole body trembled by the time she stepped back. They were both gasping for air.

"My turn." He reached for her sticky fingers and sucked them carefully, one by one. His mouth was hot and moist against her. _Ooer._ He wasn't playing fair. She tried to think. This was _fun._

“I didn’t do a very good job. Perhaps you need a shower.”

He reached for her waistband and pulled the ruined silk blouse out, up and over her head. “ _You_ certainly do. Let’s share.”

It was too crowded in the shower to do anything much other than kiss. Flora bumped her shoulder on the plumbing when Marcus tried to pick her up. The screen door creaked ominously when he leaned against it as he tried to bend over to kiss it better. She slid a soapy hand across his buttock to pull him close again.

“Any damages will have to be paid for. I don’t want to have to stitch up any slashes from broken glass, either. Let’s get out of here to where there’s more space.”

There were two towels on the rack, neither of them armsman-sized. Somewhere her analytical brain made a mental note to buy something bigger for future use, but it was a fleeting thought, no sooner registered than forgotten. She was much more interested in the way his biceps flexed as he swept her off her feet and carried her through to the bed. She grabbed the towels on the way past.

“Put me down, you loon! We can’t soak the place. I have to sleep in this bed, even if you don’t.”

He stopped, dripping water over the rug at the side of the bed. The look he gave her made her melt just a little “You want me to put you down?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t ever want you to put me down. Let me put the _towels_ down, instead. That might work.”

He flipped her over his shoulder like she was a roll of carpet or something and pulled back the covers from the bed with his other hand. “Maybe you should save one of them for your hair,” he suggested, “if we’re talking about getting things wet.”

It was a bit hard to think draped over an armsman’s shoulder, but her hair was making a pool on the floor. With a bit of deft manouvering Marcus spread one towel on the sheet and deposited her onto it before twitching the other one out of her grasp to squeeze the worst of the drips away. After a couple of quick rubs he’d had enough of playing lady’s maid and followed her onto the bed.

“Where were we?”

She bit his ear. That shut him up. “You talk too much,” she choked out, before they forgot about talking altogether. The best she could do was a moan or two as he explored her body. The sensations built and built to a shuddering, gasping release. Marcus followed her over, muffling his cry in her damp hair. Delight pulsed through her limp body until they finally lay, boneless and utterly spent, in wordless bliss. All Marcus could do was wind a strand of her hair round his finger and bring it up to his lips. She lay with her head on his shoulder and a hand on his chest, feeling the thud of his big heart gradually slow.

It seemed too soon; it _was_ too soon when his chrono chimed from the bedside table. His groan echoed her own.

“Damn. I’m a fool.” He pulled back from the mindless embrace they’d been sharing then leaned forward again to kiss her neck just below her ear. “Thank you for my best birthday ever. I think I hate Walton just now. You stay there. I’ll let myself out.”

Flora hauled herself up to lay propped against the headboard so she could watch him dress. “It’s a very nice view from here, but I think I preferred it when you were _un_ dressing.”

He sat beside her on the bed to pull on his socks and boots. “Flora, I—” She laid her fingertips across his mouth, cutting off his apology.

“Just go. I have work in the morning, don’t forget. I’ll see if I can accidentally manage to meet Dr Wally at the main entrance. We’ll maybe get a chance for a word.”

He leaned over to kiss her, hard, then walked out. She heard his footsteps on the stairs, closed her eyes and sighed. Seconds later she hopped out of the bed to dispose of the decidedly damp and uncomfortable towel. She hadn’t noticed it before. Nothing else had mattered apart from his arms around her. Everything was so simple when Marcus was around, and so…so _dull_ when he wasn’t there. She crossed around the bed and got in the other side. After a bit of wriggling she found a dry spot, and a pillow to hold that still smelled faintly of his cologne. It was a poor substitute, but at last she drifted off to sleep.

 

There were still people around in the square, walking home from dinner, perhaps, or finishing their late shifts at work. There was a snatch of music as a door opened and closed. Fox kept his eyes open, but there was no sign of any furtive drug runners lurking in the shadows between the pools of light cast by the street lights. The District Office was well-illuminated with a guardsman on duty outside the main entrance, and another one concealed on the roof, he knew. The third one, stationed outside the entry to the Residence Building, came to attention at his approach and made a show of checking his identity.

“We weren’t expecting you back this evening, Armsman. Word is you were going to be out celebrating your birthday.”

Fox gave him a _look_ until the smirk disappeared off the guardsman’s face. “I did, thank you, and now I’m back. Make sure you pass _that_ word.”

There was an ImpSec driver waiting by his ground car, and no doubt another one or two troopers concealed around the place. Major Karasavas wasn’t any more paranoid than the average ImpSec operative, but that wasn’t saying anything much. The man had eyes in the back of his head. Fox keyed open the front door and logged back in to the Residence security to check the log. The evening had been uneventful, as far as he could see. After a rapid change of clothes in the ready room he checked his appearance and headed off to report to Dr Waleska.

Wally looked up in surprise as he entered the library. The men were lingering over a late cup of tea, although there were signs a bottle had been shared as well. Madame Waleska must have gone up to bed some time earlier. There was no sign of her.

“What are you doing here, Fox? Have your hopes been dashed? Did Medtech Dunbar, F S have to wash her hair, or something else more pressing?”

He thought about Flora’s wet hair streaming down her back in the shower. He’d probably think about that for weeks. He could feel himself grinning. “Well, sir, that’s exactly what she did. Walton, on the other hand, found he had matters to discuss with Medtech Dunbar, F A which required his close attention. It’s all worked out to our mutual satisfaction.”

“You seem remarkably sanguine about it all. I hope you’ve had a good birthday, all the same.”

“Yes, sir, I have. I just wanted to let you know that I’m back, and all is well.”

Major Karasavas rose to his feet. “I’ll head off. I’ll have more information in the morning, but the focus of the search seems to be shifting back to Vorbarr Sultana. _Exhaustive_ efforts here have found nothing and Byerly Vorrutyer picked up a whisper this evening at Lord Voranson’s party. It could be unrelated, of course.”

“Thank you for letting me know, Major.” It was a bit unheard of for ImpSec to voluntarily share _any_ information, but Karasavas was better than most, and Fox needed to know these things. He wasn’t going to let himself relax just yet, though. He saw the major out of the house and watched him depart in his ground car. Like he’d said, the trail had gone cold here in New Sheffield. That didn’t mean they were off the hook, though. Tarpan was still somewhere. He wouldn’t give up.

 

Walton turned up in good time for breakfast, shaved and sharp. Fox felt a twinge of envy, but he hadn’t had such a bad evening himself. His fellow armsman didn’t seem to be any different at first glance, but that weird noise as he walked over to the coffee machine told a different story. Walton was _whistling_.

They looked at each other over the groats and spiced bread. Walton was the first to break the silence. “Any news overnight I should be aware of?”

Business as usual then. “Major Karasavas should have a report this morning on activity in Vorbarr Sultana. Tarpan may have switched focus back to the capital.”

Walton grunted. “Bullshit. He’s still here, and so is Darian. I can smell it. He’s playing with us.”

“I think you’re right.” Fox finished his food and pushed back from the table. “So _we_ , my friend, will keep right on looking. I’ll go check on the family breakfast. The Doc and his good lady should be down any minute.”

Walton poured himself some more coffee. “I’ll run through the Voralys House logs and let you know what you need to know. Harper is a bit brief in his reports, sometimes. He didn’t mention yesterday that the damned cat escaped again, did he? Price just told me about it. It took him half an hour to catch it, when he should have been concentrating on Miss Marie.”

“Prince Xav could escape a vacuum. No, Harper didn’t mention that yesterday. I’ll have to have a word with him. Tell Price he’s authorised to use his stunner next time.”

Walton sipped at his coffee. Just as Fox reached the door he spoke again, staring down into his drink. “You don’t know what last night meant to me, Fox. All I can say is _thank you_.”

Fox paused. “I think I do, actually. We’re a couple of lucky beggars, aren’t we? See you in the hall if I don’t see you before. Oh, and Walton? Don't forget to restock.”

Admiral and Madame Waleska weren’t big eaters so there was really very little to do at breakfast. Fox brewed up Madame’s special tea and served fresh spiced breads to the two of them. He stood by the door, waiting to clear up once they’d finished. The admiral had found his partner very late in life, but anyone could see the deep love they had for each other. Would that be him, twenty years from now? He could only hope.

Wally stood up and leaned over to kiss her goodbye, just as Fox’s wristcom sounded its in-house alarm. It was Walton. “Fox, Voralys House has gone on high alert. That piece of Yuri’s shit has sent Miss Marie a bottle of purple popper.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Count Voralys is an angry man. The armsmen are put on high alert, and there is some very unexpected news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I've been travelling for three weeks but should be back to normal very soon.

Admiral Waleska sprinted for the nearest comconsole but Fox beat him to it by a fair margin. He punched in the Voralys House code and waited five interminable seconds before Harper answered. Wally practically shoved him out of the way as Count Voralys did the same thing to Harper at the other end. He didn’t look distressed. He looked incandescently _angry_. Fox had seen Count Vorkosigan and even his son the Lord Auditor white with anger. He’d seen Count Voralys furious, but he’d never seen his liege lord in a towering Vor rage quite like this one. The count answered the unspoken question before they could open their mouths.

“She’s fine, Wally. It was intercepted. This Ghemspawn bastard knows everything about us. He sent her a _present_. It was in a box of paints. You know the sort she loves— paint on the liquid and wash out the colour to shade— Price scanned it and the tox screen lit up like the Winterfair fireworks. I’m going to personally execute this…this…” He spluttered out, too furious to think of anything bad enough to call Tarpan.

More than anything, the name he’d already called Tarpan expressed his wrath. He’d never said _Ghemspawn_ in Fox’s hearing since Price, the grandson of an invasion Ghem, had come to work for him. Fox’s initial panic subsided. Marie was fine.

“He can’t ever have expected it to get to her, surely?” He asked the count. “He’s sending you a message, and a not very subtle one at that, My Lord Count.”

Count Voralys snarled at him. “Threaten my child, would he? Fox, I’m sending her down to you with Simon and m’mother. You will lock her up tighter than the Imperial Penitentiary, do you hear me? And that’s an order.”

That wasn’t the right thing to do. Fox knew it, and Walton, who had slipped in behind them to listen to what was being said, knew it too. Walton tried to object.

“But that’s what he wants, My Lord Count. Don’t play his games. The Emperor will take her if you ask him. Tarpan will never get near her at The Residence.”

The count’s eyes flashed as his lips narrowed. He pointed at Walton. “You’ll follow your fucking orders, Armsman. I’m not putting the Imperial Heir at any kind of risk if that madman decides to try for her. He’d love that. They got in last time, don’t forget.”

Walton had to bite his tongue. “I’m sorry, My Lord Count.”

Fox knew what his thoughts were. They probably agreed word for word with his own. The count was hell bent on sending Miss Marie _into_ danger, not away from it. They’d had their orders, though, clear and unequivocal. The count wasn’t going to listen in this mood. He was actually shaking. He dropped his finger but still glared at Walton down the comconsole.

“See to it.”

Walton snapped to attention. “Yes, sir. We’ll keep her safe.”

“Keep Wally safe, too. I’m sending more men down to you there: Harper, Price and Sarmiento. Kosa will take charge here. Expect Marie and my parents by lunch time, Fox. Walton will take care of Wally while you arrange things. Stay alert.”

Fox wanted to clarify something. “I take it Major Karasavas has been informed, sir?”

The count nodded. “He’s probably already at the front door. You’ll liaise with him, of course, but Marie’s safety is _your_ responsibility, Fox.”

He cut the link. Dr Waleska looked at the both of them, and then at his chrono. “I need to get to the burns unit. The ladies will be wondering what’s happened to me.” He caught sight of his wife. Madame Waleska looked worried as she peered round the corner of the door. “I’ll see you in the hall, Walton. I need to have a word to Aceline first.”

Fox’s wrist com pinged from the gate guard. That would be Major Karasavas arriving, no doubt. He took good care to check all the security vids before opening the front door and Walton carried out the full safety protocol, thoroughly checking the ground car before allowing the doctor into it. The Municipal Guard cleared the streets and provided the groundcar with an escort fore and aft, sirens blaring and lights flashing as they left. There was no time to see them off or send a message to Flora. Walton would know what to say, anyway. There was even less time for regrets. This was what he’d sworn to do and he needed all of his concentration now. He set to work.

When Walton returned they checked every centimetre of the District House, _and_ the offices next door, including the surrounds and all the lines of sight. No-one was going to sneeze without them knowing about it. The Municipal Guard worked overtime and diverted traffic away from the road leading to the house and cordoned off the entrance to the offices with a security checkpoint for everyone in or out. By the time the flight of three flyers circled overhead everything was locked down as tight as a drum.

Miss Marie and Simon Vorillyan, with Harper as escort, arrived on the first flyer to land. Fox felt a twinge of surprise so hopefully anyone with evil intent would have missed her too. The second flyer held only Sarmiento and all the luggage. Lady Alys arrived on the third flyer with Price. Fox saw Walton stiffen as Price handed Lady Alys down. It took him a second to realise that Price wore a full armsman’s uniform. _The count had sworn him in._ The plasma arc strapped to his hip told him the reason why, too. Like the rest of them, Price was now armed with lethal force. Walton had supervised his arms training. His nod of quiet satisfaction told Fox all he needed to know. Armsman Price was ready.

Marie rushed over as soon as she saw him. “Marky! You’re here. I missed you!” She launched herself at him for a hug. He buried his face in her hair for a second, then kissed the top of her head. His arms stiffened around her. He’d sooner die than have Tarpan hurt this little mite. As he looked up again Simon Vorillyan caught his gaze. The cold, implacable depths of his stare chilled him. It was obvious the old spymaster felt exactly the same way. Marie broke away to hug Walton.

“Walton! I missed you, too! It’s different when you’re gone. Princess missed you, as well.”

Walton ruffled her hair. His dry, “Did she, now?” Would have been funny in other circumstances. They didn’t linger. The armsmen and Simon formed up around her and Lady Alys as they made their way through the little-used internal entrance to the District House. Harper handed off a cat carrier to a waiting servant at the first opportunity and rolled his eyes at Fox. Princess and Prince Xav had come along for the duration.

Fox pulled Harper to one side as soon as he could. “Does Miss Marie know about all this?” he asked.

“Only that there’s a security drill. She never got wind of the present. Price did exactly the right thing. It didn’t get past the front gate.”

Fox managed to catch up with Price once the family was settled. He shook his hand with firm approval. “Congratulations, Armsman. I’m sorry you didn’t get the ceremony you deserve, but the count’s done the right thing.”

Price looked fiercely proud. His flaming red hair proclaimed his Ghem antecedent but his loyalty to Barrayar and the count was impossible to deny. “It’s the greatest honour of my life, so far, Fox. I’m proud to serve Count Voralys and his family. To think of that scum targeting Lady Marie like that…” His scowl deepened as his voice died away. Fox pricked up his ears.

“ _Lady_ Marie? Have the adoption papers come through? It’s been formalised at last?”

Price nodded. “Yes, the scroll was in the same mail delivery as the paints, if you can believe that. It’s taken this long for the search for relatives to be abandoned. Thomas Watson was born in Vorsmythe District, over the border, but he enlisted from New Sheffield, so it was a bit complicated.”

Fox had been good friends with Tom Watson on the _Kanzian_ well before Marie was born. If the count hadn’t taken her when her mother was killed he would have stepped up. It was better for Marie this way, though. She’d have advantages he could never have managed.

“Lady Marie Watson Voralys. It sounds right.”

Simon Vorillyan interrupted them. “Armsman Fox. A word, if you please.”

It was more than a word. It was the most thorough grilling of their security arrangements Fox had ever been subjected to, and that included the count’s wedding. It gave Fox just a glimpse of why the old Simon Illyan was held in such awe. Major Karasavas submitted to the same inquisition without even a blink. He obviously remembered his old commanding officer very well. At the end, the count’s stepfather still looked dissatisfied. He tapped one of the flimsies they’d been studying.

“ _This_ is what’s bothering me. The weak link in the chain is the Municipal Guard. This former patrol captain, Darian, is too well acquainted with their routines, and probably still has contacts he can lean on, men who escaped the initial clean out but still have something to hide. Tarpan will have milked him for everything he knows. The count may trust ex-armsman Sheridan, but I don’t know if I do.” He looked at the ImpSec major. “Would you care to accompany me on a visit? Fox has everything under control here.”

Karasavas nodded in approval and gathered up his data file. His expression hadn’t lightened over the past four hours, and nor was it likely to. His Eye of Horus pins on his collar caught the light as he turned to leave. The major wasn’t going to rest until all this was resolved.

As he watched them go Fox felt very glad he wasn’t in Sheridan’s shoes when Vorillyan and Karasavas descended on him. It would be an uncomfortable few hours for the Guard Commander. One thing was for sure. If Sheridan knew anything he hadn’t told them it wouldn’t stay secret for long.

 

Flora Dunbar sighed with disappointment. It upset her more than she thought it would when Marcus Fox failed to appear at the hospital that morning. She swallowed her emotion, though, when she saw the tense look on Adrian’s face. The sight of a plasma arc in the holster on his belt only reinforced her unease. _Something was up._ He very briefly squeezed Fiona’s hand as he acknowledged them both.

“There’s a major security alert. All leave is cancelled for the foreseeable future. I’m sorry, ladies. Fox wanted to tell you himself, Flora. I’m sure you know what he’d like to say. He’s armsman commander. He’s going to have to be working flat out.” He gazed at Fiona and his expression would have broken a heart of stone. “Getting involved with an armsman is a really bad idea. My Ma could tell you all about that.” He swallowed. “But I’m so glad you did.” He hesitated again. “These people are devious, and know far more about us than they should. Be careful. Take the security car to and from work. Always let people know where you are. If you see _anything_ suspicious, tell one of us, or ImpSec.” He pressed Fiona’s hand again and snatched the briefest of kisses. His lips formed silent words as he turned away. _I love you._

Fiona looked at Flora after he disappeared and they’d fallen in behind Doctor Waleska as he walked into the unit. Her eyes looked suspiciously bright. “I don’t understand this place. I have a bad feeling about all of this. How can they be so…savage, and yet so loving, all at the same time?”

Flora shrugged. She had no idea. “I guess they haven’t had all the emotions _civilised_ out of them, like we have on Beta. We’d be _counselled_ if we started threatening anyone. _Therapy_. You know what that means.”

There was still a lot of organisation to be done. Flora worked on adapting the Standing Operating Procedures they’d brought with them from Beta while Fiona catalogued and arranged the stores. Doctor Waleska spent half of his morning working at his comconsole. He was in overall charge of the whole District’s medical services. He couldn’t spend all of his time on the burns unit. Dr Wrachmann would have the final say about it all, anyway, but Flora was confident he’d find everything in order when he arrived.

It was soothing to work on routine matters that they knew so well, but tension lay just below the surface. Flora could see by the way the doctor’s eyebrows werepulled down that he was only trying, and failing, to appear normal. Without his asking she made his favourite black tea and brought it into his office. He looked up in surprise as she came in, and managed a smile.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

She smiled back. “I know, but you look like you needed one. I’m sorry you’re worried.”

He relaxed slightly. “Thank you, Flora. I thought I’d be done with security when I retired from Imperial Service, but it seems as if security is not quite done with _me_. One of these days my wife and I will disappear to her home on the South Continent and grow roses.”

“What is it with this growing roses thing, Doctor? Is it because they’re the symbol for love?”

He half laughed, half grimaced. “It’s a lot more basic than that, I’m afraid. It’s an old Barrayaran saying. If you have the land and the time to grow roses, you’re secure enough not to be using every square metre of land to grow food. A great percentage of the population is still subsistence farming on this planet.”

Flora contemplated what he’d just said. “I’ve so much to learn.”

The doctor massaged his forehead briefly, then picked up his stylus. “I hope you stay around long enough to learn all you need to know, but Beta is your home the way Barrayar is mine.”

She went back to her work on operating manuals and training procedures. _Was_ Beta her home the way the doctor loved Barrayar? What was there to miss, apart from crowds and treated air? She _could_ make a difference here. She really could.

The message light blinked on the comconsole in the front parlour. Flora rushed over to jab the button, but it wasn’t from Marcus, or from Adrian for that matter. Sela Thorne had called from Vorbarr Sultana.

“Oh!” Flora felt guilty. She’d all but forgotten Sela hadn’t been well. She should have been in touch with it before now. Hurriedly, she punched in the code. It took nearly a minute, but Sela finally answered. It still looked pale, with dark smudges under its eyes accentuating their marvellous blue. “Sela! How are you? You don’t look much better. What did the doctor say?”

Sela looked past the comconsole for a moment. “Byerly, it’s Flora and Fiona. Come and talk to them. I don’t care what you’re doing. Get your lazy butt over here right now.”

Was Byerly still in the black books? He didn’t look too repentant or guilty when he appeared in the feed. He looked his usual edgy self, with his hair perfectly coiffed and his tunic sharp. It was a far cry from the day Sela had pushed him in the river. The look he gave Sela before he turned to face the ladies was a mixture of exasperation and concern, but there was something different in his expression, too. He looked ever so slightly stunned. Flora’s intuition kicked in as she gazed from one to the other. What was going on?

Sela took hold of Byerly’s hand. “We have some news. We didn’t want to say anything until—”

They way its face suffused with incandescent joy told her everything. She leapt to her feet. “Oh, my God! You’re pregnant! Of course. That explains everything!”

Fiona squealed. Byerly…Byerly actually grinned. He looked terrified, now, but proud as punch as well.

Sela ignored the riot as best it could. “I had the placental transfer yesterday. We didn’t want to say anything until we were certain the embryo was viable, but Dr Antonov at the replicator centre told us everything is normal. It was the luck of the draw, but it has only the two sex chromosomes. X and Y. We’re going to have a little boy. Can you believe that?”

Fiona whooped again and high-fived Flora before they hugged each other and leapt around like mad things. “That’s the most fantastic news! Congratulations, both of you. Oh, my gosh! This makes us aunties! How do you feel, Sela?”

“Better, now that the transfer’s done. I was terrified for two days straight until it was all over. Byerly—” Sela broke off, choked. It kissed Byerly’s hand. “Byerly has been a tower of strength. He’s going to be a wonderful father.”

Flora forced herself to sit down again. “Who else have you told? I don’t know how we’re going to keep this quiet, but we will if you want us to.”

Byerly answered the question. “My cousin Dono and his wife. I had to get him to pull some strings to find a vacant replicator. Ivan wasn’t available when I called, so he doesn’t know yet. He’ll have to find out soon as he’s going to be the godfather. Apparently you have such things on Beta. I can’t think of anyone better.”

“I’m sure he’ll be as proud as punch. You’ll have to have a baby shower. Can we organise it, please? We love baby showers.”

Sela looked uncertain. “That wouldn’t normally happen until the month before the birth. Will you still be here?”

Sela had a point. Their contract would be up long before then. “Let us worry about that. It’ll all sort itself out. Can we tell Marcus and Adrian, and Ma Walton?”

“Who? Oh, the armsmen. Yes, of course you can tell Fox and Walton, and Admiral Waleska. News will soon get to Ivan that way.”

Sela cut the com eventually. Flora tried to get through to Marcus, but it was an armsman called Harper who answered the call. She didn’t want to just leave him a message, other than for him to call her back when he could.

There was a continued silence from the District House, with only brief recorded messages from Adrian and Marcus, and no direct contact. Somehow they just seemed to keep missing each other. It was the same with Adrian Walton. Fiona saw him in the distance a couple of times, but not to speak to. The news would just have to wait.

Ma Walton heard nothing from Adrian either. She was philosophical about it and made them both a nice hot cup of tea when Fiona rather forlornly asked her if she’d heard from her son. “No news is always good news. Sometimes I wouldn’t hear from Bart for weeks at a time. I’d say don’t worry, but that’s not possible, not when you really care about someone. They’ll be in touch when they can.”

It only took two more days for the first minor burns casualties to be diverted from the main emergency department into the new unit. Most of them only needed treatment with gamma argulase, but one little boy had fallen backwards into an open fire and burned his scalp. Their follicle generator had been commissioned with Darek Belka’s sample, but this would be the first local patient to need the unit. It was only a small graft, quickly grown and soon ready. Dr Waleska decided to go ahead and do the procedure himself to save the boy and his family from the stress of waiting. Two days before Dr Wrachmann arrived they christened the operating theatre.

It was ridiculous to be nervous, Flora knew, but Fi looked tense as well. They had a Barrayaran anaesthetist and an experienced scrub nurse working along side them. The familiar hum of the bio shield counteracted her nerves. As it snapped on her whole focus narrowed to the job and she took a deep breath.

Dr Waleska was an excellent surgeon, she could see straight away. His reputation was thoroughly justified. Everything went smoothly. In just over two hours Fiona sat with the patient in recovery as Flora went to speak to the anxious parents while the doctor completed his notes. They were so very grateful. Back on Beta they sometimes didn’t even get a _thank you_ , never mind something like this with the mother practically weeping all over her as they hugged, and the father not much better. It was _good_ to be back at work.

It wasn’t until she and Fiona climbed back into the ground car that night to be dropped off back at the Dower House that she could let go of work and think about Marcus again. Whenever she had an idle moment, which wasn’t often, she thought about him: the curve of his chin, the width of his shoulders, the feel of his hands on her skin. Most of all, she thought about the look in his eye when he gazed down at her. She missed him. More than that, she _craved_ for his presence like a wilting rose craved water.

Doctor Waleska hadn’t looked worried for nearly a week. Everything appeared to have settled down again, although the security checkpoints remained in place around the District Offices and House. He might not be able to get leave, but perhaps he’d have the time to call her tonight. Perhaps she’d call _him_. It couldn’t do any harm.

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's no progress in the search for Luca Tarpan. The burns unit comes on line, and the mysterious Dr Wrachmann finally arrives.

 

“Oh, it’s you!” _What a stupid thing to say_. Of course it was him. She’d lucked out and managed to reach Marcus, finally. Her initial thrill faded to concern. He looked tired, with lines of strain around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. She reached out a hand to try and touch him, to smooth them away. That was stupid, too, but it had been involuntary. His face softened as he saw her.

“Hello, Flora. I’m so sorry we haven’t been able to talk. I miss you.”

“I’m just glad I’ve caught up with you at last. Your count is a slave driver.”

A faint smile crossed his face. “No, he’s not. He’s a very good man, just crazy with worry right now. Things will calm right down once we catch this maniac Tarpan. What’s been happening with you? Dr Waleska was very happy with the first surgery at the unit. I saw his report to Count Voralys.”

“Yes, it went well. It was a small graft and relatively simple surgery, but everyone is really happy with the results so far. You’ll obviously know the doctor’s going back to Vorbarr Sultana to meet Dr Wrachmann at the shuttleport. I wonder if he’ll be as scared as we were? It all seems very silly now, doesn’t it? Dr Wrachmann is due here the day after tomorrow so we’re planning on having Darek come in next week for the preliminaries and final checks. All the grafts are ready to go. It’s all quite exciting.”

“I heard the count is sending Ma Belka down with her husband. Lady Marie will be pleased the kids are coming too. She misses Stefa, and young Piotr looks out for both of them. Ma Belka will be working here while he’s in rehab so she can be close to him. What can I say? Every cloud has to have some sort of a silver lining. The cook here is good, but she’s no Ma Belka. With the council of counts finishing up the session soon I can’t see Count Voralys being far behind her. There’ll be nothing to keep him in Vorbarr Sultana and I know he wants to go to the Harvest Festival in Rotherhall again this year. We’ll be busy for some time, yet, but I should be able to get some leave soon, with any luck. Certainly some off-duty time, anyway. I want to take you dancing again.”

“I’d like that.” Words faded away as she looked at him. She’d like that very much. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Sela called me. Have you heard the news?”

“Sela Thorne?” He shrugged. “No. The only news I get is relative to the security situation. What news?”

“It’s just wonderful. Sela wasn’t sick when it was here, it was _pregnant_. Sela and Byerly are going to have a baby.”

His whole face changed to a picture of astonishment. “No! Byerly Vorrutyer is going to be a _father_? Does the count know?” A delighted smile cracked across his features. “I’ll bet he doesn’t. _Byerly Vorrutyer_. oh, my word.”

“Sela seems to think he’ll make a wonderful father. The count couldn’t take By’s call the other day so I don’t think he does know. Could you ask him to contact them, please? They want him to be godfather.”

“I really hope I’m there when he finds out. Godfather? Is that a Betan thing? We don’t have them here.”

“It’s a cross between a guardian and a sponsor, I suppose. The promise is to make sure the child grows up to be moral and responsible if the parents aren’t able to do it for any reason.”

He had trouble getting the words out. “ _Moral and responsible?_ Lady Alys will want to know about this, too. May I tell her?”

Flora smiled. “Of course. Good news should spread fast.”

Marcus glanced past the comconsole. Someone must have come into the room. He sighed. “I have to go. I’m so happy I finally got to speak to you again.” His voice dropped and softened. “I love you, Flora.”

“I love you, too, Marcus.” She just managed to squeeze it in before he cut the com. It wasn’t enough, this briefly snatched communication. She wanted more.

 

It was strange that neither Flora or Fiona had ever met Dr Wrachmann that they could remember. Their specialisation wasn’t that big on Beta. Fi had done some digging, to see what they might expect. All of his technical papers had been presented at conferences at the medical school at Quartz University, not Silica, but his CV looked very impressive and appropriate. From the holo and the CV he wasn’t a herm, though, which _might_ have explained things, so that was one theory debunked.

Doctor Waleska had cleared the twins through to meet them at the landing pad on the roof of the District offices. As they waited for the flyer to arrive in New Sheffield they tried to recall if they’d ever even _seen_ Dr Wrachmann before.

Flora studied the picture attached to his CV. “This holo is as useless as identity photos always are. It’s so wooden. He doesn’t look very Betan, does he?”

Fiona snorted. “What’s a Betan supposed to look like? That’s just ridiculous. Everybody’s different. It’s only the clothes that tell us apart. I definitely don’t recognise him, though. Perhaps he’s been a delegate at some of the conferences we’ve attended and we just haven’t noticed him.” 

As the flyer door opened they waited impatiently for him to emerge. He appeared at last, topping Dr Waleska by at least twenty centimetres. They’d definitely never seen him before; they’d have remembered _this_ man. He looked to be nearly two metres tall, but slim and elegant with it, moving gracefully towards them across the landing deck. _Surgeon’s hands,_ Flora noticed. He had sleek black hair worn long to his shoulders, Betan-pale skin and as he got closer, they could see his shrewd, dark grey-blue eyes. He was a very handsome man.

When he was introduced to them his voice sounded typically Betan, with just a hint of a Quartz accent, but otherwise unremarkable. The hairs rose on the back of Flora’s neck as he shook her hand. She suddenly felt cold. _Like someone walked over her grave_ , her grandma used to say. _Something was wrong here._ Dr. Waleska seemed oblivious, but Fiona gave her a curious glance or two as they headed for the lift tube. Had she picked up the same vibe, or not? The armsman who had flown them down was one Flora wasn’t very familiar with. Kosa, his name was. She didn’t feel comfortable asking him questions so she shrugged off the feeling. There was no way Dr Wrachmann could be associated with Luca Tarpan. He’d been appointed weeks ago, before any of this other mess had blown up. She was being silly.

It was silly resenting him moving into Marcus’s old room at the Dower House, too. Ma Walton fussed about, delighted to have more company around. After cups of coffee and cake they left the newcomer to settle in. Dr Waleska headed home to his long-suffering wife and Flora and Fiona conferred in the front parlour. Fiona obviously didn’t share her opinion.

“He looks like a lovely man, Flo. What do you think? Did you notice his hands?”

Flora nodded. “Pretty much the first thing, after his height. But, Fi, don’t you think there’s something odd about him? I just got a feeling—”

“You and your feelings,” Fiona protested. “You have to give the man a chance.”

Flora frowned at her sister. “I had a feeling about Leckarts, don’t forget, and look how that creep turned out.”

Fiona paused, exasperated, and surveyed Flora’s expression. “So is this the same sort of feeling, or another one entirely?”

“No, it wasn’t the same,” Flora admitted. “When he shook my hand I just chilled, all over. Perhaps there’s been a lot of tragedy in his life, or something. It’s the Celtic genes in me, although I don’t know why you don’t get the same vibes I do.” She pulled herself together. “Anyway, we don’t have to be best friends. All we need to do is work together.”

Dr Wrachmann joined them for dinner. He’d changed into an elegant casual knit shirt and knife-edge crease slacks, both in contrasting subtle shades of blue-grey that complimented his eyes. He was a snappy dresser, this doctor. He smiled at them with a twinkle in his eyes as he sat down to the table. “Is this where the third degree begins? Should I crack out the fast-penta?”

Flora relaxed. She sensed nothing odd about the doctor now. She could forgive a man with a sense of humour. “Fair exchange, perhaps? What would you like to know about _us_?”

He stirred his summer soup for a moment or two, looking down into it thoughtfully. “I had a look at your resumés, on the trip over from Beta. What did you think of Dr Leckarts, Flora?” He looked up again, unerringly meeting her gaze with his own. He seemed to have no difficulty telling them apart. “You can be honest.”

She shrugged. “As a doctor, first class. As a human being, he was in a class of his own. The slimy creep class.”

“Ah, I see. It wasn’t just me, then. Dr Leckarts and I have had a few differences of opinion over the years. I take it he never mentioned me?”

“No, he didn’t. We were surprised not to have met you on Beta. We thought we might have seen you at one of the conferences from time to time.”

“We had an arrangement, Leckarts and I. He stuck to Silica, and I stayed in Quartz. It was the best way to avoid…er…difficulties. Like being arrested for assault, for example. We were colleagues, once, in med school. He took a close personal interest in the woman who later became my wife. Need I say more?”

Flora shuddered. “I hope she didn’t come to any permanent harm?”

Wrachmann winked. “No, indeed. It was Leckarts who required the medical attention. My wife is not a lady to be trifled with, you see. She’s a paediatrician now with a thriving practice which is why she can’t join me immediately. She’s winding up her case load at Quartz children’s hospital before she tackles packing up our apartment.”

Fiona perked up. “Oh, what’s her name? I worked in paediatric prosthetics for the six months prior to coming here. I might have met her, or heard of her, at least.”

“Not like me, eh?” Those eyes were laughing again. “Dr Lindy Brocklehurst.”

“Oh, I _have_ met her. She’s just about famous. And she’s giving it all up, to come here?”

“Don’t sound so incredulous. It was mostly at her urging that I applied.”

It sounded a bit odd. Flora was puzzled. “So why did you want to come to Barrayar, Doctor? Fiona and I don’t have any commitments on Beta, but you both are well established. I understand you have children, too? It must have been a huge decision. Is it going to be a permanent move, not just the six months term?”

He smiled. “Most likely, barring complications. We have lots of reasons. I had a relation who came to Barrayar, years ago. She told me a great deal about it and I always wanted to see it for myself. From what Dr Waleska has told me and from what I’ve seen I can do some real good here, but mostly it’s for the children. Our third, fourth and fifth children, if my wife has any say in the matter. Two is not nearly enough for her.”

“You couldn’t do that on Beta.” Flora could see his point immediately.

“No, indeed. We’re looking forward to growing our family. Children are life’s treasures.” He paused, thinking, before he changed the subject. “And how are you liking it so far, ladies? Have you settled in? No teething troubles?”

Flora could feel heat rise in her face. Dr Wrachmann’s eyes twinkled again. “Like that, is it?”

She nodded ruefully. “We nearly got ourselves arrested the first day we were here. There’s a hierarchy, and a way of doing thing we weren’t ready for. Everything’s fine now, though. We managed to apologise. What did you think of Count Voralys?”

“Actually, I didn’t get to meet him. He was locked up in some debate or other at a place called Vorhartung Castle. That’s where the Councils meet, isn’t it? The government? He sent his apologies and promised to invite me to dinner as soon as he reaches New Sheffield again.”

“He has a very good cook. Our dinner was fantastic and we got to meet his family, too. We only ran into trouble at breakfast the next day when we met our patient, Darek Belka. It’s criminal what he’s had to put up with.”

Dr Wrachmann agreed. “Yes, I saw Belka briefly. No wonder the count is eager to have something done. He’s to be commended, stepping in where Veterans’ Affairs have failed. It wouldn’t happen on Beta.”

Fiona gulped at her glass of wine. “We’re as ready as we can be for his surgery. You’ll see the replicators tomorrow. The grafts have really matured.”

His attention sharpened. “On the way down here Dr Waleska told me about your first operation in the new theatre. He was impressed with how smoothly it all ran. He thinks we’ll make a very good team.”

They turned to technical matters. Flora looked at her chrono at last and was startled to see they’d sat at the table for nearly two hours. “Oh, no! Look at the time. You must be exhausted, Doctor. We’ve been nattering away like nobody’s business and you’re probably ready to crash.”

“I’ve enjoyed myself, actually.” He took the hint though, and rose from the table. “At home, we mostly avoid talking shop in front of the kids. It bores them too much. At work, there’s no time to just talk, so I found this really useful. I hope we can do it again.”

He passed by Flora quite closely on his way out of the room. There it was again, that subtle unease, bordering on pain. It was fleeting, but it was real.

There was more to Dr Wrachmann than met the eye.

 

Three days later, Flora’s opinion of Dr Wrachmann hadn’t changed. She was going to enjoy working with him. He was thorough and compassionate with the minor cases who came through the burns unit, and meticulous with his technique. There was nothing to fault. Fiona got on well with him, too, which wasn’t always the case. Dr Waleska pretty much left them to it after the first day, apart from dropping by once each morning to offer support. That meant, of course, that there wasn’t much chance to see Marcus, but she was too busy to brood on it.

Flora was in the main reception area, ordering stores, when Waleska called past on his way home. Dr Wrachmann came out of his office to talk to him.

Wally issued an invitation. “My son-in-law is making a flying visit this weekend to catch up with his daughter. I think he’s missing her, with Marie down here and him stuck up there in Vorbarr Sultana. I know Marie is missing him. He’d like all of you to come to dinner so that he can meet Dr Wrachmann and catch up with the progress. He’ll be bringing the Belkas with him. I hope you’re all free for the evening on Saturday?”

“Are you sure he’ll be happy to see us again?” Flora asked. “We made ourselves pretty obnoxious last time he saw us.”

“Oh, Ivan doesn’t bear grudges. Just don’t do it again, and everything will be fine. Lady Alys wants to meet you both again, too, to see how things are going. See you all then?”

“It’s fine by me. Fiona hasn’t mentioned anything, so I’m sure she’d love to come. What about you, Dr Wrachmann?”

“Of course. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Good. I’ll send the ground car. 1830 hrs, Dinner at 1900.” He nodded and left to go home.

The District residence was still very well guarded when the ground car pulled up to the front door on Saturday evening. Flora’s heart leapt at the sight of Marcus waiting at the door to greet them, with Adrian there as well, much to Fiona’s pleasure. He was very formal as he greeted the doctor. Flora wanted to smother him with a huge hug, but controlled herself. He managed to squeeze her hand as he took her coat, passing it to Walton to deal with as he led them into the library for pre-dinner drinks.

Count Voralys sat to one side of a blazing fire, with his wife next to him. Lady Alys, Simon Vorillyan and Dr. and Madame Waleska made up the group. The count finished saying something to his wife and rose to greet them all as Marcus announced them.

“Welcome to Voralys District, Dr Wrachmann.” He stopped, suddenly, looking at the doctor in a degree of shock as he shook hands. His face paled just a little and his eyes widened before he pulled himself together. “Please, take a seat. What would you like to drink? And ladies, how about you? Won’t you make yourselves comfortable?”

He smoothed over the incident very well. If the doctor had caught the count’s dismay he didn’t say anything. Flora glanced from one to the other before her attention was claimed by Lady Alys. _What was going on?_

After a glass of excellent wine and delicate hors d’oeuvres Marcus Fox returned to announce that dinner was served. Lady Alys led the way with Dr Wrachmann as guest of honour. Simon Vorillyan squired Fiona on one arm and Flora on the other. As they left the room she saw the count catch hold of Dr Waleska’s arm and speak to him in an urgent, strangled undertone. She only just caught what he said.

“Wally, what the _hell_ have you done? I’ve got a damned _Cetagandan_ working for me.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Count Voralys holds a dinner party.

 

Armsman Fox, standing very properly to attention as the count’s guests and family filed past him, felt the shock as his lord’s words sounded in his ears. He’d seen his fair share of Cetagandans on duty at the Hegen Hub nearly fifteen years ago, but none of them had looked like this Dr Wrachmann, or whatever his name actually was. The admiral appeared to be equally baffled as dismayed.

“What do you mean, Ivan? He doesn’t look like any Ghem I’ve seen, and there were plenty I helped to patch up. His security check was fine, Betan citizen with Betan parents. _ImpSec_ cleared him.”

The count still spoke between clenched teeth. “That’s because he’s not a Ghem, Wally. He’s a damned Haut, and _I’ve_ seen plenty of _them_ to know.”

They couldn’t linger. It wouldn’t do to keep the guests waiting. Perforce, the admiral and the count followed the others to the dining room. Whistling silently to himself, Fox closed the door to the library and brought up the rear of the little procession. He couldn’t immediately see any threat himself. The doctor had been scanned. He wasn’t carrying any weapons or biologicals. They weren’t at war with the Cetagandans that he knew of, and Wrachmann was a Betan citizen. The real Dr Wrachmann was, of course. Who knew who this was. Stranger thing had happened. Surreptitiously he checked the stunner on his belt all the same. All good. If there _was_ a threat, he was ready. Otherwise, he’d have to wait for a clue from his lord. He’d thought this dinner would be awkward with Flora so close but so untouchable. That was the least of his worries now.

They sat around a large, circular table in the wood-panelled dining room. With a total of nine to eat it would have been unbalanced to use the much bigger rectangular table and this way everyone had two neighbours. Trust Lady Alys to think of that one. Walton had outdone himself. Despite all his mutterings and imprecations earlier in the day his efforts had been well worth the angst. Beeswax candles flickered in the draught of the open door. Each was wreathed with tiny rosebuds in soft pinks and whites. Matching arrangements stood either side of the sideboard and on the mantel. Dr Wrachmann gazed around the room, inhaled the odour of beeswax and burning apple wood from the open fire and then, with reverence, slid his hand across the beautiful wooden inlay of the table top where it could be seen in between the semi-formal placemats. “Such magnificent riches, and more at the Dower House, too. The staircase there is superb. You are so very lucky, Count.”

Instead of answering, Count Voralys took a gulp of wine, ignoring his mother’s raised eyebrow. Fox hurried to refill his glass. The lubrication seemed to help. He made an effort before the silence dragged on for too long. “Thank you, Doctor. The artisans in the Time of Isolation were quite remarkable people, despite their many hardships. How these beautiful things managed to escape intact through our history is more of a miracle.”

Simon Vorillyan smiled benignly at the company as Fox circulated, filling wineglasses or assisting the guests with their linen napkins. He waited until they were all served with wine. “In my experience craftsmanship is very much taken for granted on Barrayar. I remember our most famous Betan import’s total crogglement that we would actually _dance_ on the ballroom floor at The Residence. Naked flames tended to worry her, too. You won’t have seen too many of those on Beta, Doctor Wrachmann.”

He agreed. “No, only the consequences of them. I’m not a fan of flames. No doubt I’ll get used to them.”

“I should think you’ll be very thankful for them, when winter comes. There’s something about a flame that speaks to the caveman ancestor in all of us. It’s very comforting. A promise of safety and survival, I suppose you could say.” His voice hardened. “That, or total immolation, of course.”

It wasn’t like Simon Vorillyan to indulge in whimsical fancies. Fox caught the look that passed between him and his son-in-law. So the old spymaster had recognised the Haut, too. _Interesting_.

Lady Alys, for once, hadn’t caught up with the nuances of the situation, too busy trying to gloss over what she perceived as her son’s social solecism. “Won’t you tell us about Quartz, Dr Wrachmann? It’s not a city I’ve had a chance to visit. It must be a very cosmopolitan sort of place.”

Wrachmann savoured his wine. “It is indeed, my lady. I was born there, and I’ve lived there all my life apart from my medical study years at Silica. My grandparents, I believe, chose it as their home. The citizens of Quartz are very well educated, philanthropic, tolerant and welcoming. There are many refugees living in Quartz, for example.”

The count had rallied. Two glasses of wine with a third waiting seemed to have done the trick. “Were _your_ grandparents refugees, then, Doctor? From one of the nexus’s inter-planetary conflicts, perhaps?”

Wrachmann’s smile held a hint of wry acceptance of the inquisition. “Indeed, sir, my paternal grandparents were refugees, of a sort. From all accounts it would be more correct to call it a political asylum situation. They certainly weren’t able to return to their home world. They’ve made a good life on Beta and given their descendants every advantage of freedom and education.”

Madame Waleska could appreciate exile. “Oh, that’s such a shame. It must have been so isolating for them. They found new friends, though?”

“Indeed, Madame, they did. They’re both very happy, still.”

“Oh, they’re still alive? I’d forgotten about Betan longevity.” She looked puzzled for a moment. “But then, from what you’ve said they weren’t Betan, were they?”

Dr Wrachmann looked around the table, then sipped at his wine again. From where Fox stood, it looked like he’d come to a decision. “No, Madame, they weren’t. My grandmother came from Eta Ceta, and my grandfather from Rho Ceta.”

Fox winced as Count Voralys saw his last possible lifeline slipping away. “You do know about your Haut heritage, then?”

Fox could have heard a pin drop. The count took another huge gulp of his wine as he waited for the answer.

“Yes, I know I have a Cetagandan blood line. My grandparents repudiated the Haut, though, and want no part in their politics. My grandmother in particular found her work very distasteful.”

Lady Alys stared at her husband, consternation written all over her face. Her impeccable social skills deserted her at this revelation. Doctor and Madame Waleska both found something fascinating to examine in their plates. Even Countess Voralys, Flora and Fiona finally realised that the doctor had just lobbed a political hand grenade into the centre of the table.

Fortunately at that moment armsman Walton wheeled in a trolley bearing the soup tureen. In the bustle of service the count regained his equilibrium and managed a creditable rein on his emotions. “So, tell me about your father, Dr Wrachmann. Was he born before your grandparents settled in Quartz?”

It was a very loaded question, as Fox could well appreciate. If he’d been born _before_ they arrived on Beta he would be a Star Crèche creation. Afterwards, well, who knew? Everyone in the room, including the two armsman, hung on the reply.

“My father was actually a body birth, in Quartz, a year after they arrived. The first to a Haut in over three hundred years, or so I was told, although the conception itself was in-vitro. Yes, they _are_ still capable of such things and Grandmère wanted to prove it. Wanted to belong, I think, reading between the lines. My grandmother was very proud of the fact she was no different to the average Betan in that regard. My aunt was a replicator birth though. I believe Grandmère was said to say something along the lines of _been there, done that_ when the question came up.”

“I would entirely agree with that sentiment.” Lady Alys had found her voice at last. “What about you, Aceline?”

Madame Waleska nodded. “Given the choice, absolutely,” she smiled lovingly at her daughter, “but Valeraine was worth every discomfort, and more. I would have done it again, if circumstances were different, but the widows’ club was so very extensive back then. Such sad times.”

There was no reply to that one. The count obviously saw his dinner party spiralling ever downwards into total disaster. Fox refilled his glass again. From behind the count’s back he sent Flora an imploring look. She took the hint.

“I hear the Belkas came with you from the capital, Count. Is Darek very nervous about his procedure?”

He smiled at her in relief. “Not nervous, exactly. I’d call it a cross between terrified and wildly excited. Ma Belka is the nervous one. You wouldn’t think it to taste this dinner, would you? She says cooking is the only thing keeping her sane, at the moment.”

Wrachmann sipped at his soup. “Your chef has an exquisite palate, Count. You obviously appreciate her skill. Do you know her family connections?”

Fox looked at Walton, who’d dispatched more than his fair share of Ghem in his time. Was that question what he thought it was? Was the doctor implying there were more Cetagandan bloodlines around than they knew about? He moved to stand behind the count’s chair with the bottle at the ready. The countess looked at her gobsmacked husband and took her turn to step into the breach.

“Ma Belka’s aunt is the most famous cook in the whole of Vorbarr Sultana. We have her to thank for…er… _snaffling_ Ma Belka when the chance came. It was quite a coup. They are both living treasures. We’re very lucky to have her.”

“Indeed.” Dr Wrachmann obviously had no idea how shaky the ground was he was treading on. “I hope you’ll be so kind as to pass on my compliments.”

She smiled at him. “I’ll be sure to.”

Simon Vorillyan had been quiet for quite some time. What was going on behind those impenetrable features? His eyes had narrowed and his body language had undoubtedly changed. The count kept glancing anxiously at him as they drank their soup, but he was oblivious to the silent messages. Out of the blue he blurted out, “Rho Ceta, eh? What was his name? His real name, that is?”

Fox sucked in a breath. Where was this going?

The doctor spread his hands in apology. “He has never shared that information with me, sir. I don’t believe my father knows it, either. He seems to have made it his business not to ask. Very wise of him, I’ve always thought.”

The main course of vat salmon in dill sauce was wheeled in by Armsman Price. After taking one look as the door opened a piteous whimper escaped the count before he could suppress it. Fox thrust the wine bottle he’d been holding into Walton’s hands and covered the space to the door in three strides. He kept his voice low, and his considerable size between Price and the dinner guests as best he could. “I’ll take care of this, Price. The count is feeling anxious about Lady Marie. I’d like you to go up and sit with her. You can relieve Kosa and send him off duty, please.”

Mystified and not a little curious, Price luckily did as he was bid without question. Out of the corner of his eye Fox saw the count relax marginally. At least one possible crisis had just been averted. Price was going to need a serious debrief, but just not right now. Who knew what he’d do with a Cetagandan in the room. He’d paid dearly, growing up on Barrayar with Cetagandan blood in his veins.

The count’s distress was rapidly turning into anguish, and his ordeal was not yet over. They’d already had more information than any of them could quite process, but Simon Vorillyan wasn’t finished.

“It would be a matter of public record when your grandparents arrived on Beta, wouldn’t it? Or at least when their residence was granted.”

Dr Wrachmann murmured his thanks to Walton as he served the fish. It looked like he wasn’t going to answer for a few moments, but he sighed at last and looked up into Vorillyan’s eyes. “There’s no need to go to those lengths, sir. I believe I know what you’re asking. My grandfather arrived on Beta approximately three months local time before the destruction of Vorkosigan Vashnoi. He was violently opposed to the progress of the war in the Ninth Satrapy, to the point of being recalled to explain his objections to the emperor. His ship mysteriously didn’t survive the jump to Rho Ceta from Komarr. Fortunately for my grandparents, they’d already made their escape and were on their way to Beta when it happened. It was the main factor in them being granted asylum.”

The count pushed his half-eaten plate of food away and reached for his glass. Walton promptly obliged, although his attention rapidly shifted back to the unexpected guest. Everybody sat, half-mesmerised, waiting for what he would say next.

Fox almost expected the count to bang his head on the table at any second.

Fiona’s eyes flew open and she gasped with some inner realisation, tried to turn her reaction into a cough, and promptly choked. Dr Waleska, on her left, almost absent-mindedly handed her a glass of water as the remorseless Vorillyan pressed on.

“He would have to have been a person of some considerable importance, then, for his opinion to have been of consequence to anyone, especially the Celestial Garden.”

Wrachmann kept his cool. “One would presume so. I don’t know.”

Countess Voralys was receiving no help from her husband. She rallied again. “Perhaps you gentlemen would prefer to continue your debrief _after_ we’ve finished our meal? Our medtechs are both looking very bewildered. Barrayaran past history is probably of no great interest to them.” She looked tried to look very stern.

Flora took her courage in her hands. “What did you think of Byerly and Sela’s news, my lady? My sister and I are both thrilled for them.”

Lady Alys had been trying to divert her husband’s attention for the past ten minutes. She gave up being surreptitious and laid a hand on his arm. “Simon, dear, did you hear the news? I don’t believe you were there when Fox told us. Sela Thorne and Byerly Vorrutyer are going to become parents. I do believe I’m more than a little jealous. We should look into it ourselves.”

It was all Fox could do not to burst out laughing at the expression _that_ little bombshell brought to his count’s face, not the mention the usually inscrutable Vorillyan. The countess managed to cap it, though.

“It’s such good news. In fact it’s the final piece of good news Ivan and I needed to make up our own minds. With the Emperor starting his family and the Vorkosigan’s twins well on the way, not to mention the Galenis and Count Dono, I’ve gone ahead and made an appointment for the two of us at the Imperial replicator centre. We’re going on Ivan’s birthday.” She smiled happily around the room. “Our little Padma will have lots of peers, at this rate.”

And if that wasn’t news to the count, Fox was a Jacksonian pirate.

As dinner parties went, this was one for the annals. When they all rose from the table Fox had a quiet aside to Walton. “Keep the doctor’s glass separate, and not one word. Not to anybody.”

As grim as he’d ever seen him, Walton merely nodded as he headed for the kitchen.

Flora pulled her sister back for a moment when they all headed back to the library. Fox, on door duty, was privy to the conversation.

“What was all that about, Fi, when you choked? You thought of something, didn’t you?”

Fiona nodded. Her eyes looked huge. “Remember what Dr Wrachmann said, about a relative of his, who told him all about Barrayar? He said _she_. His grandmother must have been on planet for quite a while, to know all about it. And...and she hated the work she did.”

“That’s true. He never said if his grandfather had travelled any further than Komarr, but _he_ must have been here, too.”

“Cetagandans occupied Barrayar for twenty years.” Fox reminded them. “Most of the bastards were Ghem, but there must have been some of their Haut Lords here from time to time. _And_ their ladies. There were Cetagandans in this District, in this very house.”

Flora didn’t know enough about the history of Barrayar, especially the Cetagandan invasion. “No wonder the count is so…so…” She trailed off, not knowing what to call the count’s state of mind.

“Croggled,” Fox supplied for her. “Dismayed, astonished, dumbfounded, even thunderstruck. He’s got no idea what the ramifications of all this are, and neither do I, right now. If this leaks out Dr Wrachmann will be in danger. There's no doubt about that. The count will probably get around to anger, later, once the hangover wears off.”

“You’ll tell him, will you?” Flora asked him, anxiously.”I don’t think it would be good, coming from us.”

“I’ll have to.”

Flora squeezed his arm. “I like Dr Wrachmann. If the old man was opposed to the nuclear strike, they can’t hold it too badly against his grandson, can they? That just doesn’t make any sense. No one on Beta holds such an enormous grudge about the Escobar invasion. Did the Haut Lords ever do any of the fighting?”

Fox didn’t quite know how he felt, or how to explain the Barrayaran psyche. “If you think that, you don’t know Barrayarans. Cetagandans were responsible for five million Barrayaran deaths, is all I know, and more at the Hegen Hub. We’ve been to war with them three times in the last hundred years.” He shook his head. “You’d better go on in. I need to fetch the coffee and Walton should have the trolley all ready by now.” He had to leave her there, but he made sure his fingers trailed fleetingly across her cheek. Flora blew him a kiss and turned to follow her sister into the library.

They didn’t linger over their coffee. Within half an hour the count called for the ground car to be brought around. He did manage to shake Dr Wrachmann’s hand as the guests left. “This revelation of yours is going to cause changes, Doctor. Exactly what they are yet, I can’t say. It would be devastating for the Belkas if Darek’s surgery was postponed. I need to take advice. I wish my cousin the Lord Auditor was on planet at the moment. I’ll decide in the morning, with a clearer head. In the meantime I’ll have to assign you a bodyguard.”

Flora held her breath, but the count disappointed her. “Fox, call the Municipal Guard. I’ll need a squad. They don’t need to know the details.”

As they all piled into the groundcar Flora managed one last brief hand squeeze with Fox, who held the door open for them. She looked upset, but there was nothing he could do about that right now.

Back in the library Fox poured Count Voralys, Wally and Simon Vorillyan more brandy. The three ladies had vanished, probably to go up and relive Price of his baby-sitting duties. Vorillyan tossed off his brandy, most unlike him, but understandable given the nature of his close dealings with the Cetagandan Empire. Although Fox would never know all of the details, the old ImpSec chief’s spies had kept them all safe for decades. He was an angry man.

“You have to let General Allegre know, Ivan. He’s a damned Ceta _spy_. Your poor mother wasn’t prepared for that. Two of her uncles were murdered during the Occupation, don’t forget. I don’t know why you didn’t lock him up on the spot.”

Wally disagreed. Fox had never seen him get hot under the collar like this. “No, he’s not a spy! He’s a Betan citizen with a brilliant reputation, Simon. That attitude is just prejudice and that’s not like you at all. Ivan couldn’t lock him up! It would cause the most enormous diplomatic incident and you’d never get another off-world surgeon to come to Barrayar, once word got out. You wouldn’t call Price a Ceta spy, would you, or René Vorbretten? They’re part Ceta, too.”

Vorillyan glowered at him. “You can call him anything you like. You can _not_ trust the man. Who knows what’s been manipulated into his genes?”

The count poured himself another glass. He sat for a moment or two, his brow furrowed in thought. He threw the spirits down his throat and thumped the glass down, decision made. “Wally, bring that procedure forward. Have him do it tomorrow. I want Belka treated before the shit hits the fan. If the worst comes to the worst you’ll have to do the follow-up care if necessary. I’m going back to Vorbarr Sultana in the morning. I need to talk to Allegre, but I want to talk to Gregor, too. Damn Miles for swanning around on his honeymoon. We need him _here_.”

The doctor shook his head.“He can’t do it tomorrow, Ivan. Belka needs to fast.”

“Give him an emetic if you have to. If Wrachmann doesn’t do it tomorrow he won’t be able to do it from ImpSec custody, will he, and that’s where I see him ending up until we’ve got to the bottom of who he is.” He held a hand up to forestall further protest. “Fox, have the lightflyer ready at 0600. We’ll be leaving for Vorbarr Sultana. You can bring one other armsman. The rest are needed here.”

“Very good, sir. I’ll bring Walton. Harper will take charge here at the District House with Driscoll as his deputy. Oh, and sir, we should have Dr Wrachmann’s glass isolated from the others. We can at least check his thumb scan against his official documents.”

The count nodded in curt dismissal. “Good thinking, Fox. See to it.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus and Flora are parted again.
> 
> Darek Belka finally gets his operation.

There was an early autumn chill in the air and in the half-light of early morning lingering wisps of mist lay among the trees in the city park as Fox banked the lightflyer towards Vorbarr Sultana. Count Voralys was in no mood to appreciate the scene in his District capital; instead he jabbed at the control button to increase the polarity of the canopy, blocking out the blinding rays as the sun cleared the horizon. His hangover must be troubling him. They’d been flying for twenty minutes before he spoke.

“Did you get a result on the finger prints, Fox?”

“Yes, my lord count. I had the night shift duty officer over at ImpSec run the search. They match. At least we know that Wrachmann checks out. He’s been living on Beta all his life, but Major Karasavas will probably initiate inquiries at a higher level when he gets to his desk this morning, if he’s not there already.” He paused to look at the count in his rear view scanner. “I didn’t say what we were looking for.”

“Quite right. We keep this under our hats. Karasavas won’t be pleased, but I want Belka to have that procedure. I can’t let him down now.”

Fox ventured to continue the conversation. “Who do you think his grandfather was, sir?”

The count shrugged. “I don’t know. Someone in the planetary government of Rho Ceta, I should think. I’m very much afraid it’s his wife we have to worry about. There’s only one explanation for her being on Barrayar, if what you told me last night is true. She’d have to have been working on the biological warfare, and not the animal or plant plagues, either. Haut women work exclusively on human genetics and I know there were Haut women in Vorbarr Sultana doing just that. The Emperor’s told me a bit about it. He’ll know more, though, or there might be more information in the archives at Vorhartung.”

They fell silent again. Fox contemplated the worst of the stories he’d heard about the Occupation. He’d discounted a fair few of them, but just maybe he’d been wrong to do that. Looking at Wrachmann, he _could_ discount the worst of the rumours he’d heard about the Haut, though. They were still human, even if they’d been gengineered to hell. Unless that was his Betan half, of course, that made him look human. The doctor wasn’t pure Haut, but then his father must have been human enough for his mother to be attracted to him. His grandparents had managed to fit in with Betan society, so they couldn’t have been too different, although Betans were notoriously lax about gengineering. Not as bad as Jackson’s Whole, but still… None of it made any sense, and he was just going around in circles. Fox sighed. He’d have to let the count do the worrying. It was all too much for him.

The capital was as bustling as it always was. Somehow the count had obtained an interview with the Emperor at very short notice, so after negotiating all the security checks and code clearances Fox brought the lightflyer down in the parking lot at Vorhartung Castle. There was an ImpSec ground car and escort waiting for them. Leaving Walton with the flyer Fox accompanied his count to The Residence. It wasn’t just his imagination; security seemed tighter than usual, with an extra weapons and identity check before they reached the outer office, where they cooled their heels for over forty minutes. At last the aide-de-camp signalled the count and ushered him in. Emperor Gregor Vorbarra should have been a happy man, not long married and with his son and heir safely ensconced in his replicator a few rooms away, but he looked anything but happy as he waved Count Voralys to one of the chairs by the window.

“What’s so urgent, Ivan? I’ve had to postpone the finance meeting for this, and there’s something brewing at Rho Ceta that’s going to give us all headaches.”

Fox stopped at the entrance to the emperor’s inner office and stood with his back against the wall, to one side of the door, next to the Vorbarra armsman who was already there. They exchanged a terse nod, not speaking.

Just before the door hissed shut the count spoke.“I’m sorry to add to it, sire.”

There was tension in the very air, over and above the normal hyper-vigilance of the Vorbarra armsmen. Fox knew better than to ask, though. His security clearance was pretty high, but what went on in that room was way above his pay grade.

After about ten minutes the outer door opened and General Allegre came into the waiting room. He looked harried. The emperor’s armsman, Gerard, must have had orders to show him straight in. He opened the door without hesitation. Inside, Fox could hear the emperor talking.

“This couldn’t have come at a worse time, Ivan. General Allegre is on high alert and Ops HQ has cancelled all leave—” He broke off. “Here he is now.”

The door closed behind the head of ImpSec. Fox _really_ wanted to know what was going on. This flap couldn’t have anything to do with their CetaBetan, or BetaCetan, or whatever he was. A few moments later the door opened once again. Emperor Gregor himself saw Count Voralys out. Fox heard everything as the emperor shook hands in farewell.

“Keep him under wraps. Otherwise, try to act as if everything is normal. Don’t let him out of your sight for a second, though, and don’t let him wander round in public. I’ll get Major Karasavas onto it. It’s going to look too peculiar if your expensive import doesn’t show up for work, but make sure there are no vids and definitely no interviews. Make up any story you like. Just let me know what it is.” He turned to go back in, but stopped. “Oh, and Ivan, don’t leave town. I’m certain this other matter is going to involve the Council of Counts.” He turned back to his ImpSec chief. “So, Guy, do the reports check out? What do you make of it?”

The door closed once more on General Allegre’s reply. Count Voralys just shrugged at Fox and headed off. He waited until they were in the corridor to speak.

“The Cetagandans on Rho Ceta are up in arms at the moment, _literally_. Something’s really stirred them up. If they get wind of a renegade Haut actually on Barrayar, who knows what the repercussions might be? We have to keep Wrachmann out of sight.”

“There’s always the possibility that someone will recognise him if any vids get out, sir. There’d have to be contemporaries of the grandfather still alive on Rho Ceta.”

The count shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. I think there may well have been a purge, and it wasn’t just the Ghem who had to apologise to their emperor, but there could well be some on Eta Ceta that remember the grandmother, especially in the Star Crèche. They have very long memories, don’t forget. Gregor did give me permission to see what I can find in the archives. We need to go back to Vorhartung for that. Let Walton know we’re on our way.”

Fox spoke into his wristcom. Walton would meet them at the entrance once he’d locked down the lightflyer. The Imperial archives wasn’t a destination to come his way before. He’d been to the museum, pretty much everyone in Vorbarr Sultana had done that, but the thought of three centuries worth of bureaucratic records wasn’t exactly appealing.

“Perhaps you could talk to Lord Auditor Vorthys’ wife, too, sir. She would know where to look.”

The count snapped his fingers. “Why didn’t I think of that? You’re a genius, Fox. Yes, we’ll do that first. I was _not_ looking forward to trawling through miles of dusty reports.”

Fox had to hide a grin. _That makes two of us._ The count made no pretence about preferring other people to do the work for him, did he? If Professora Vorthys had the answers the count was looking for it would save _him_ , and Walton too, a whole lot of work. The count wouldn’t be doing it on his own.

“Tell Walton we’ve changed plans. We’ll grab an autocab and he can take the lightflyer back to Voralys House. We’ll meet him there.”

That wasn’t a good idea. “I can’t approve of that, sir. It’s not secure, and especially not right now. Tarpan’s still out there, don’t forget.”

The count just waved off that little complication. “He’d have to be one hell of a spy to know where I am right now. What do you suggest? Me twiddle my thumbs here while Walton goes back home and fetches the ground car instead? That’ll take an hour, most likely.”

“We don’t know where Professora Vorthys is, sir. You’ll need to contact her first, or I can do that for you, or we can get Nicolaides to bring the ground car over. I’m sure he’ll be delighted.”

“What, delighted at me doing my best autocratic Vor impression? I can just see Philip’s face if he has to drop whatever he’s doing to run around at my beck and call. Not that I wouldn’t ask him if it was necessary, but it isn’t.”

They’d reached the East Portico. Fox lined up at the security desk to retrieve his stunner and nerve disruptor while the count ducked over to one of the public commcallers and brought up a directory. “You just find me an autocab while I speak to the Professora, Fox. ImpSec vet all the ones that are allowed to approach The Residence. It’ll be perfectly safe. Give me five minutes.”

He wasn’t going to be dissuaded. Fox could secure one trip, though. Walton could come and pick them up when they were finished with Madame Vorthys. Fox hastily checked and stowed his weapons and got on the comm.

There was a prickling sensation that wasn’t all imaginary between his shoulder blades as Fox reluctantly called up two autocabs. He’d take the best one and cancel the other. He’d made it three for good measure before the count caught up with him.

“All set. She can see me in twenty minutes. —What the hell are you doing, Fox?”

Fox dusted himself off and opened the canopy. “I don’t have a sniffer with me, sir. Just conducting a visual check.”

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you rolling under ground cars isn’t a good idea? What if it had powered off?”

“I wasn’t precisely _under_ it, sir, just looking under it.”

“You’re paranoid. It’s an autocab.”

Fox could only agree. “Yes, sir, it’s an autocab, and I’m paid to be paranoid. _You_ pay me to be paranoid about your safety.”

For the first time that day the count grinned at him. They were inside by now, and buckling up. “I do, don’t I? We’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

“We’d better be.” Fox checked his stunner and disruptor one more time.

 

Flora Dunbar watched Dr Wrachmann, ready for any low-voiced order as he handled his delicate instruments. This was the most critical part of the operation, with Belka’s scars abraded down, leaving raw, seeping muscle fascia exposed to any mischance of infection. That wasn’t going to happen in _her_ operating theatre! She held her breath as he misted the tissue with the growth hormone cocktail and manipulated the hand tractors to gently lower the graft into place. There would be hundreds of micro sutures to come, one for every reference point she’d taken and more, around the eye and nose, behind the ear, jaw line and chin to leave no obvious trace of the graft. There’d be an hour of joining blood vessels and nerves before that, if not more, before they reached the downhill stretch.

The doctor’s eyes lifted to meet her gaze briefly. There was a subtle nod of his head as the graft settled precisely over the underlying contours. It was a perfect fit. She let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. There’d be further operations to come, on Belka’s neck and hands, but this was the most critical one. Once the scalp patch, a separate graft sitting waiting in the transplant solution, was added to this one the transformation would allow him to lead a normal life again.

Dr Waleska had scrubbed in. He was conducting a running commentary for the training vid as well as assisting. His voice, until now calm and matter-of-fact, held a note of triumph. “Pigmentation matches existing skin type. Overlap is non-existent. Eye socket matching is precise, and eyelid size looks to be perfect.” He broke off as Dr Wrachmann interrupted, again looking up from his microscope lenses.

“Eyelid size is three microns short on the right side, and two point eight microns short for the left side, where the major damage was.”

They both looked at Flora in something approaching awe this time, before he continued. “On Beta I work with tolerances plus or minus three _millimetres_. This graft is exceptionally well constructed. It’s a magnificent job, Medtech.”

She felt a flush of pleasure as he bent his head back to the task. There was still hours of tension to go before they could begin to pat each other on the back, but any complications wouldn’t be from her sloppy work. She’d just about busted a gut trying to get this perfect for Darek and his family, and Dr Wrachmann’s compliment made it all worth while. She had to blink back sudden tears. No crying allowed here. There might be bacteria in her tear ducts she hadn’t been able to sterilise, even if she was shielded with a full theatre suit.

Dr Waleska’s voice continued the commentary as the scalp graft was added and secured. The anaesthetist periodically updated them an Belka’s condition. He was hooked up to a lung oxygenator to avoid tubes anywhere near his mouth and so far that process had functioned smoothly as well.

It was Fiona’s job to circulate, opening medpacks and trundling machines up to the table and away as needed. She’d been run off her feet keeping up with the demands, but they had ample supplies of all the fluids, sutures and instruments exactly to hand now. The operating theatre worked brilliantly.

Finally, Dr Wrachmann stepped away and stretched his shoulders. “Thank you, everyone, for all your hard work. Our patient can be transferred to the ICU once he’s breathing on his own. We’re done here.”

One by one, they stepped through the bio shield and out into the anteroom. Flora hurried to assist the two doctors out of their suits, before Dr Waleska snapped the seals on her own equipment. Fiona would be another half hour, escorting their patient through to recovery with the anaesthetist.

They were strangely silent as they cleaned up. Strange to outsiders, that would be. Flora knew exactly what the strain and tension of over eight hours of surgery had done to them all, Dr Wrachmann more than anyone. Tired as he was, he wouldn’t leave to go to the waiting room until Fiona came in to report.

“He’s regained consciousness and drifted off again. Pulse and blood pressure slightly elevated but within parameters and all his organs are functioning.” Her smile was blinding as she pulled the theatre suit visor off her head. “In other words, the patient is resting comfortably.”

Flora let out a sigh of relief. “I’ll go and inform the family. They must be in agony out there.”

Dr Waleska rubbed a hand across his tired eyes. “I haven’t worked that hard since the _Princess Olivia_ debacle. Let’s _all_ go and inform the family. After that I prescribe at least ten hours sleep for the lot of us.”

As they left the theatre suite two armed Municipal Guardsmen sprang to attention. Dr Wrachmann just rolled his eyes, but Flora’s temper surged up. “I cannot _believe_ Count Voralys ordered this…this iniquitous persecution! He surely can’t really believe Dr Wrachmann is a security risk? You have to tell him, Dr Waleska. After what we’ve just seen and done, too.”

“This isn’t the place to talk about it.” Dr Waleska tried to shut her down. “We need to speak to Ma Belka right now, and we need _not_ to worry her. There’s too much involved here you don’t understand.”

Flora sucked in a deep breath. “You got that right, Doctor. They’re not coming in to the waiting room with us, are they?”

“No, they’ll wait outside. There’s only the one entry point.”

Two women jumped to their feet as they entered. A boy and a girl lay stretched out on the floor, fast asleep, heads pillowed on cushions from the couches. They must have been exhausted, poor things. Flora recognised Ma Belka, who surged forwards to grasp Dr Waleska’s hands. He hastened to reassure her.

“Everything went fine. He’s asleep. The next twenty-six hours are critical, of course, but I have every confidence. Dr Wrachmann is brilliant, and our medtechs here have done the most amazing work to have everything perfect.”

Ma Belka burst into tears. Dr Waleska hugged her tight until she regained some control. Flora looked on fondly until she felt a touch on her arm.

“Hello. We haven’t met. I’m Helen Nicolaides. My husband is the count’s secretary.”

“Oh, hello. I met your husband briefly in Vorbarr Sultana. I’m Flora and this is my sister Fiona Dunbar. Have you been waiting all this time with Olga?”

The smaller woman, a no-nonsense brunette with twinkling brown eyes, nodded. “I’m supposed to be on maternity leave. Our little boy is only two months old, but I couldn’t leave Ma Belka to sit this out on her own, could I? I left little Andreas with my Ma. Thank you so much for what you’ve helped to do here today. We’re all very fond of Darek. We’re so grateful he’s been helped at last.”

She turned to Dr Wrachmann. “I’m sure the count would want me to pass on his most sincere thanks, Doctor, until he can do it in person.”

Ma Belka pulled back at last and wiped her eyes. “Oh, yes. What can I say but thank you? You don’t know what you’ve done for my family, Doctor. We’re in your debt.”

“There is no debt.” Wrachmann contradicted her. “If there’s anything, my family is the one who owes the debt. I hope to pay it back more fully, in time. He’s sleeping, of course, and it’s only through a plexglass window for a day or two, but would you like to see your husband?”

Ma Belka gave him a puzzled frown as he started speaking, but mention of seeing Darek had her hurrying to the door. She looked back at the sleeping children. Helen Nicolaides waved her out.

“They’ll be fine. I’ll watch them. Off you go.” She waited until the door closed behind the two of them before raising an eyebrow. “What did he mean about his family owing a debt? I thought they were on Beta still.”

Flora, well aware of Dr Waleska’s scrutiny, could only shrug. “I don’t know what he meant. He’s exhausted. I’m surprised he can even talk, never mind make sense.”

Helen was immediately contrite. “Oh, of course. You’re _all_ exhausted. It's been such a long day. Let me get you some tea.”

She crossed to the credenza by the side of the room and brewed the tea, bringing a plate heaped with cakes and savouries with her when she returned with the steaming cups on a tray. They all collapsed onto the couches. Flora was barely able to muster up the energy to bring the cup to her lips. The smell of the savoury puffs was heavenly, and her stomach growled suddenly. “Ma Belka’s best?” She enquired.

“The very same.” Helen passed her the plate. “Olga has been cooking up a storm ever since she got here. All that nervous tension, don’t you know? Eat. There’s plenty more where this came from.”

Flora didn’t have to be told twice. Fiona tucked in with her, and Dr Waleska appropriated a few of the shrimp puffs for himself. There were plenty left for Dr Wrachmann, who came back in a few moments later.

“I left her on her own. She’ll be back directly. She just needed a little space.” He accepted a cup with a grateful sigh and folded into a chair. Just for a moment, he let himself relax as his eyes closed. The others politely allowed him the privacy. Dr Waleska looked at his chrono. “I should let the others know: the count and the countess, Lady Alys and Simon, and the armsmen, not the mention the kitchen staff _or_ my wife. It’s late, but none of them will be asleep.”

“Driscoll and Price are going to come out and pick us up, when we send the word,” Helen told him. “They’ve been so good, and with this security flap on, too. They’re all doubling up without a word of complaint.”

“Harper and Sarmiento will take us home, and drop the ladies at the Dower House.”

Dr Wrachmann’s eyes popped open. “You’re still of the same mind, then, that I have to sleep at the District House? Closer to the dungeons that way, I suppose.”

Fiona glowered at her boss. Flora didn’t see any humour in the situation either. She _burned_ to say something.

Helen just looked puzzled. “I’ll go and check on Olga, shall I? You’ll be OK with the kids?”

“Sure. Off you go.” As the door closed Flora sucked in a breath to complain, but Dr Waleska spoke first.

“The three of you seem to think we’re guarding Barrayar against Wrachmann, but believe me, it’s the other way around. Haven’t any of you noticed the memorial in the square?”

“Barrayar is full of memorials. Which one, in particular?” Fiona asked.

Dr Waleska had to explain. “The battleship _Admiral Vorhalas_ was lost at the Hegen Hub. Captain Lord Vorbretten was killed, but there were also over a hundred District men on that ship. Their mothers, fathers and siblings are still out there, burning for revenge. That’s the Barrayaran way. One sniff of Wrachmann’s heritage and there’ll be a lynch mob.’

“Oh.” Flora would never understand Barrayarans, and she was too tired to try and do it now. “I suppose I did jump to conclusions.” She’d have to get Marcus to explain it all to her, _if_ she ever got to see him again. He’d disappeared off to Vorbarr Sultana without a word. She hoped he was enjoying himself, the fink. She really did.

Dr Waleska hauled himself to his feet. “I’ll go make some calls.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Count Voralys learns a lesson about auto cabs
> 
> He also learns some very unwelcome information about Dr Wrachmann's grandparents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a little early this week as I'm going to be tied up this weekend, most likely.

 

By the looks of things it was an innocuous little demonstration, as far as demonstrations usually went in the Great Square. There were a few flags and a couple of banners tied to the traitors’ posts. Fox caught a quick glimpse of a lurid placard protesting the injustice done to someone or other. He couldn’t see the bottom line before the autocab swung slowly out of the gates. A detachment ofMunicipal Guard patrollers stood about looking bored, but the protesters were far enough away from The Residence to avoid too much attention from ImpSec. No doubt some surveillance squad behind closed doors was keeping a close electronic eye on them, although there was no direct threat to the emperor that he could see. They were more of a distraction really.

The hairs on Fox’s nape sprang up as the prickling between his shoulder blades flared into a full adrenalin rush. _Distraction from what?_

There was a flicker of movement from the side street off to his left, a vehicle accelerating, nothing to distinguish it from a dozen others. ...Except—

He smashed the emergency stop button with one hand and reached for the count’s seat harness with the other. “Out! Out now.” It took him five seconds to undo his own harness and dive sideways to follow. His disruptor was in his hand before he hit the cobbles and he made sure it wasn’t dislodged in the painful fall.

The count was well trained and agile. He didn’t stop to quibble, or protest. Assisted by the huge shove Fox gave him he rolled ten metres and sprang to his feet, the mass of the autocab between him and the black ground car that was still accelerating and heading directly for the gates they’d just left. As cover, the autocab was worse than useless. Fox didn’t hesitate. He regained his feet in one swift movement and took off at a flat sprint, dragging the count with him. ImpSec wasn’t going to stop to differentiate between an intruder and an innocent bystander in this little scenario. If that groundcar was loaded with explosives—

Where to go? Where was the nearest shelter? Fox pounded along. Shoko’s was useless, far too exposed. There was an ominous, high-pitched whine as the missile battery on the top of one of the office blocks sprang to life. A menacing black weapon housing swung round and down, pointing directly at them, or so it seemed. Thankfully it wasn’t the main battery, merely an auxiliary plasma cannon. It was still enough to part their hair for them. _Part it right from their heads, if that beam got anywhere near them._ Fox knew the building. He veered slightly and headed straight for it. They flashed past the demonstrators, standing slack-jawed and amazed at the commotion. Poor sods had no idea exactly what was going to happen, did they?

Behind him the force shields sprang up as the alarms shrieked. Over their heads there was a sizzle, a blinding flash and the smell of ozone. Fox glanced behind, once, to see the autocab miraculously transformed into a lightflyer, or so it seemed, as it flew into the air. The power of the force shields had swatted it like a bug. There was a shrieking crash as it landed again, not ten metres away to their right and the plexglass canopy shattered into a hail of jagged particles. The count cringed and shied away, but kept running until Fox hauled him sideways into the small foyer of the office block.

He thumped him up against the elegantly panelled wall, left forearm tight across his throat. The count goggled at him in total shock.

“Don’t you _ever_ do anything that stupid again.” He had to stop to suck in a ragged breath, and then another as wild anger blinded his vision. “There’s no way to take evasive action in an autocab, you _idiot._ It’s programmed for the single trip with no override. I couldn’t speed it up or slow it down if I wanted to. There’s _also_ no way ImpSec can tell who’s in it, either, and they’re not going to wait to find out, are they, _dumbass_? Shit, you nearly got us _both_ killed. Anyone else would be barbecued meat right now. You promised me you’d look after Marie. How does a dead man do that?”

All the fright and fury left him in a rush as quickly as it had overwhelmed him. He let go in a hurry, appalled at what he’d just done. “You _promised,_ ” he whispered, swallowing back a sob.

Count Voralys stared at him, eyes huge in his strained face. Long seconds passed as they both struggled for control.

The security door hissed opened behind them. Fox recognised the voice, even as he whirled around to face the danger.

“Ivan, is that you? I saw you trotting across the square just now. You should have made an appointment, you know. You can’t just presume because we’re friends—”

Byerly Vorrutyer’s banter shut off abruptly at the sight of a nerve disruptor pointed at his head. He threw up his hands in surrender. “Woah! Friend, Fox, _friend_. Come on, get inside. You weren’t responsible for that little fracas just now, were you, Ivan? Is that blood? You _were_ a bit too close for comfort, weren’t you? You too, Fox. Come with me and we’ll patch you up. Sela’s upstairs, too.”

He kept talking all the way up the lift tube. Sela Thorne met them at the office door. Fox vaguely registered the elegant script proclaiming DoubleVee Aesthetica as they pushed through into the relative peace and quiet of the office. Through the window they could see the ongoing chaos in the Great Square as flames and smoke from the wrecked autocab roiled into the air. Sela Thorne took him by the arm and pushed him into a seat.

“Let’s just put that nasty weapon away, shall we? Have you got the safety on? The count is out of danger now.”

Oh, he was still clutching the nerve disruptor! His knuckles were ragged and bloody from the cobblestones. Running on automatic Fox made the disruptor safe and shoved it back into its holster. Byerly Vorrutyer, eyes keenly assessing as he ripped open a pack of sterile swabs, took hold of the count’s jaw. “Here, let me see, Ivan.” His long fingers probed the count’s scalp. “And to think I once longed to run my fingers through your hair. I never thought I’d get the chance. Too late. I’m taken, now. It’s only a shallow cut, I think, up in the hairline, nothing to spoil your beauty.” He wiped away dirt and blood from the laceration, grabbed another swab and then tossed the pack to Sela before holding the pad tightly against the wound. “I think your armsman is in worse shape than you are, truth be told.”

Fox tried to scramble to his feet, but Sela ruthlessly pressed him down again. “Take it easy. You’re bleeding.”

“I’m what?” Stupidly, Fox reached up to feel his own head. They must have both been hit with glass shrapnel from the disintegrating autocab although he hadn’t felt a thing. His wits were coming back to him now, along with the sick realisation of what he’d just done. There was no time for regrets. He pressed the alert button on his wrist comm.

“Walton? We’re both safe. There’s been an incident in the square. The count has a head wound, nothing serious, maybe a little concussion. ImpSec will be swarming here in a few seconds. Pass the word that the count is safe, I repeat safe, and with Byerly Vorrutyer in his office.”

“Yuri’s _fucking_ gizzard!” Walton’s curse was as colourful as his usually were. “How the hell did that happen? Wait one.” There was a bit of a pause and then he reported back. “All lightflyer traffic is grounded and there’s a cordon around the Great Square two blocks back. I can’t get to you just yet, Fox. Are you sure you’re safe?”

“We’re fine. Just make sure everyone’s aware we’re OK, then. We’d only just left the emperor when it all went down.”

“Wilco. I’ll be with you when I can, Fox.”

Count Voralys still hadn’t spoken. Fox allowed Sela Thorne to patch up his cut head and bleeding knuckles while he tried to think his way through this. Did they need a medtech for the count? Was he concussed? He should get him talking.

“Should I call Professora Vorthys, sir? I think we’re going to be late.”

Something flickered behind the count’s eyes as he looked out of the window at the column of black smoke. He couldn’t drag his gaze away. “You do that, Fox, although the alert will have gone out by now, I should imagine. Pass the word to Gregor for me, too. God knows what he must be thinking…” He paused, and swallowed. “By, could we have a moment, please?”

Sela headed for the kitchenette. “I’ll go brew some tea.”

Byerly headed for the door. “I’ll go let ImpSec in before they scratch my nice paint.”

It only took a few seconds for them to disappear. The count waited a few heartbeats more. “Marcus, I’m _so_ sorry. You’re right. I’m a frigging moron.”

Fox, left to face his liege lord, bit his lip as the wounds on his knuckles flared in protest as he clenched his fists. “You have my immediate resignation, my lord count. That was…unforgiveable.”

Count Voralys glowered at him. “I don’t _want_ your resignation. Life oaths don’t work like that. And don’t you _dare_ do anything stupid. Falling on your sword is Time of Isolation stuff. I need you. You had every right to be angry with me. I wouldn’t listen to you and I nearly got us both killed.” His gazed returned to what could well have been his funeral pyre. “It won’t happen again. I promise. My word as Voralys. It will _not_ happen again. I’m not such a dumbass as that.”

Fox winced, and stared down at his boots. There was silence in the room. At last he had to look up, to see the count’s steady gaze. “I…I’m sorry sir. I know I’m not your friend. I didn’t have the right to do that, or call you names. I just— I thought you were going to be _killed_.”

A smile crossed the count’s face as his whole expression softened. “I thought I was going to be killed, too. What's worse is I thought I’d got _you_ killed. I think you might be the best friend I’m ever likely to find, Marcus. You have to try and understand. I wasn’t born to be a count. I spent thirty years running away from anything to do with being a count, or an emperor, come to think of it. They’re so…trammelled… hedged in with security, and rules and regulations. I never had any commitments before, apart from duty. Sometimes I just break out. I’m not perfect. I _know_ I can’t do that any more. I need you to care. I’m _humbled_ by your care.”

Fox couldn’t talk. He managed a stiff nod. That’s all he was capable of just right now.

Count Voralys relaxed. “We’ll say nothing more about it. But please God don’t tell my mother how close we just came.” He held out his hand. “Deal?”

Fox looked at the outstretched hand. The count hadn’t been brought up to be a count, true enough, and _he_ had never dreamed of being an armsman. They had to make their own way, together. He nodded again and grasped the hand in a firm grip, never mind the pain from his knuckles. “Very well, sir. Deal.”

Sela bustled back in with two steaming mugs of tea. “All settled? Who do you suppose was mad enough to try and ram the entrance to The Residence like that? There’s a river of red out there. I sincerely hope it’s not blood.”

Fox and the count both took another look out of the window. The protesters were gone. Only the shredded remains of the banners were left behind in the desolate square, and a lonely, trampled placard. Automatic barricades had sprung up all round the perimeter, keeping both the milling pedestrians to within three metres of the shops and offices and the central area clear for emergency vehicles. A fire crew attended to the autocab and the remains of the ground car swarmed with green-uniformed men. As Sela had said, a pool of red spread out in all directions and splattered up against the walls, far too much to have come from human passengers.

Count Voralys shook his head in dismay. “It looks like some frigging lunatic with a death wish just pulled off the craziest publicity stunt I’ve ever seen. That ground car must have been filled with dye, or paint, or some sort of shit like that. What tipped you off to it, Fox?”

“There was no driver. It wasn’t an autocab, so it should have had a driver.” Realisation dawned on them both as he continued. “We would have been collateral damage, wouldn’t we? Innocent bystanders caught up in the chaos. Nobody actually _trying_ to kill you, this time.” Fox could see his hands shaking and the count wasn’t much better. “At least it wasn’t explosives. That’s Barrayar for you, sir. More madmen than you can poke a stick at.”

Byerly Vorrutyer arrived with a trio of ImpSec troopers, led by a stressed Ground Captain. The officer took one look at the count and let out a breath. He raised his comm to his lips. “The report was correct. We’ve found Count Voralys. Let the emperor know he’s safe.”

One of the troopers was a medic and the captain waved him forwards as he spoke. “You were reported as being _in_ that autocab, my lord count. The gate guard didn’t see you get out of it.”

No, they’d rolled low to the other side, away from the trouble, and the guards wouldn’t be looking at the autocab, anyway. They’d be too busy with the other vehicle. After that the two of them would only be part of the score or so of people who’d had the wits to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the incident. Only Fox was wearing his uniform. There wasn’t a lot to distinguish them from the other bystanders. Fox could well imagine the confusion. So could the count, obviously, as he spoke.

“Thankfully, Captain…?”

“Sphaleros, sir. Ground Captain Sphaleros.”

The count continued. “Yes, well, Captain Sphaleros, thankfully my armsman here exercised his wits and discretion in the nick of time. We dodged more than a bullet. That forcefield is something else, isn’t it?”

“It’s more of an anti-grav battering ram. Clears the space quite well. It’s the first time I’ve seen it used, myself. At least now I know it works, and the plasma cannon, too.”

So even ImpSec had been rattled at the commotion. Fox had never heard one of the weasels voluntarily give out information like that. He ventured a question while the man was in a loquacious mood. “What’s with all the red dye?”

“Crazy loons symbolising the blood of a band of Occupation martyrs or some such shit. They want some land back Emperor Yuri confiscated after the Cetagandans were done with it. Sucks to be them, really. Headquarters is built on it now. Even _if_ they had a legit claim the cost for this clear up is going to wipe it out. They’ve got no show.” Abruptly, the captain stood to attention as his earbud interrupted him. His face paled just a little as he recognised the voice. “Yes, sire, I can confirm he’s safe and mostly well. My medtech is just finishing with him now. Yes, there’s a comconsole here. The code is…” He looked at Byerly, who hurried to supply a contact card. The captain read it off. “Stand by for a call.”

It was only seconds before the Imperial three-toned chime sounded. Byerly waved the count forward. “It’s obviously not for me, thank god.”

The rest of them backed away as the emperor’s face appeared. “Ivan. Words fail me. Thank God you’re safe. What the _actual hell_ were you thinking?”

For the first time in over an hour, Fox smiled.

 

Sphaleros and his squad left the pair of them in Byerly Vorrutyer’s care after the emperor had finished wiping the floor with his cousin the count. He said everything Fox had wanted to say, and more, but even as he laid on the sarcasm it was tempered with a profound relief. The bond between the two of them obviously ran deep. Count Voralys had a nice line in grovelling, apologising every time the emperor let him get a word in edgewise. That was one lesson that had been well and truly hammered home. It was generous of the count to tell the emperor he owed his survival to his armsman, too.

The painkillers the medtech had given them kicked in, and Sela Thorne talked its way as far as Shoko’s to bring them something to eat while they were waiting.

Walton finally got to them nearly two hours later. He had news, as well as a change of clothes for the pair of them. Fox was only dirty. The count had managed to ruin another new suit with a hole in the knee and another one in an elbow. “I’ve talked to Countess Voralys, and to Simon Vorillyan, sir. He mostly believed me that you’re more inconvenienced than hurt. The countess isn’t very happy, though. Perhaps you should call her first thing when we get back, _and_ your lady mother. I told _her_ you were in lockdown. I _think_ she believed me. They won’t tell Lady Marie anything as she doesn’t need to know. The countess also reports that Darek Belka had just gone into surgery when I contacted them. It’s expected to take eight hours if everything goes to plan, so we won’t hear any news until late tonight. I’ve also re-scheduled with Professora Vorthys. She’s lecturing this afternoon but has invited you for dinner, at 1900 hours. I ventured to accept on your behalf. No moping that way.”

Count Voralys gave him a filthy look. Walton ignored it. “Stands to reason you’ll have decided this is all your fault, sir. It’s not. It’s those three maniacs ImpSec have in custody, or so I heard. It’s just misfortune you happened to be there.”

Fox hid another grin. He could laugh about it all now. It hadn’t been so funny when they were running for their lives. Trust Walton to dampen down any hysterics, though. They’d lived to tell the tale. That was all that mattered.

 

Walton tried to talk him out of it, but Fox insisted on accompanying his count to dinner that night. Truth be told, he didn’t want to let the man out of his sight. He needed a keeper. He really did. Fox was going to have nightmares for weeks about the might-have-beens that morning. They compromised in the end; Walton would drop them off and pick them up, Fox would stay with the count.

Professora Vorthys really was a no nonsense sort of lady. She wouldn’t hear of Fox standing guard while they ate. Perforce, he sat down at the table with them once the Lord Auditor backed her up and pointed to a chair with his next-to-Imperial finger. The count was no help, either. He just grinned at his armsman’s discomfort. At least his seat faced the door, and there was an ImpSec squad outside. They should be safe.

Count Voralys had to tell the tale of his morning’s exploits before he could get round to his query. The Lord Auditor asked a few pertinent questions about the trajectory of the ground car after the force shield hit it, and whether or not they’d felt the nimbus of the plasma beam. The count didn’t really know the answers.

“Just as well you ran as fast as you did,” the Lord Auditor grumbled. “That beam has a killing zone close to twenty metres. I told them it was too powerful for that application. It was diverted to use there from a battle cruiser, of all things, but do they listen?”

It was, of course, a rhetorical question.

Professora Vorthys’ attention perked up when the count at last got the chance to ask about Occupation haut. She didn’t have to think for more than a few moments. The Occupation was one of her specialities. “I know there were at least two haut women who were killed in Vorbarr Sultana over the years. One was in an explosion near where the ImpSec building stands today, and the other was an abduction and execution. The reprisals for _that_ were beyond savage, from all accounts. Hmm... The woman _you’re_ talking about knew the place well and survived to reach Komarr before she was killed on her way home, you tell me? There’s only one like that I know about, a very high haut indeed. She was styled the ninth planetary consort, the Haut Lady Zaia Giaja.”

Fox saw the consternation flood the count’s face as he gulped before choking out, “ _Giaja_?”

“Oh, she was only a distant relation to their emperor. Half the Haut population of Eta Ceta would be called Giaja, if they’re not Degtiars. There would have been horrific reprisals if she was held in any great affection, I’m sure, even though it was a jump accident, albeit a very convenient one. The current emperor’s father’s second cousin, I believe she was, but who really knows what the genetic connections are like on Cetaganda.”

The count took a swallow of his drink, trying to digest what this was going to mean. “I met some planetary consorts, a few years ago now.” He was lost in his memories before he pulled himself together. Fox could see his mind working. “So she wasn’t married or partnered, then, being a planetary consort?”

“I wouldn’t have thought so. The governor of Rho Ceta died on the same ship, and about two hundred assorted ghem and other unfortunates with them. He wasn’t married either, quite a young man as haut go, which was a very unusual state of affairs. The ruling haut usually like to form dynastic alliances through marriage.”

Fox asked the question, as his liege lord seemed incapable of speech. “Do you happen to know what his name was, ma’am?”

Professora Vorthys smiled at him. “Indeed. His name was Haut Lord Kaito Rond.”


	20. Chapter 20

Flora Dunbar rolled out of bed at last. She’d slept for eight hours straight, she saw as she checked her chrono. She’d volunteered for the early shift and it started in just over an hour, but even so she couldn’t wait to get to the hospital to see how Darek had spent the night.

The hot water in the shower eased some of the last night’s lingering strain from her shoulder muscles. It was strange to relax, after all her efforts and intense concentration. Dr Wrachmann had liked her work, too. His unstinted approval left her with a warm glow and the deep satisfaction of a difficult job well done.

It was hard to step into the shower and not think of Marcus, though. Her breath caught at the memory of him in here with her. He _should_ be here to share the good news. Darek Belka was _his_ friend, after all. Had he tried to make contact? She’d been dead to world and wouldn’t have noticed a call. Perhaps she’d have time to get a hold of him today, before she headed out.

Ma Walton had breakfast ready, as usual. Her morning greeting was a bit absent, which was unlike her.

“Is something wrong, Ma Walton?”

“Oh, sorry, dear. Adrian called yesterday afternoon, when you were in surgery, and I missed you last night. You won’t have heard the news. There was an incident in the Great Square in Vorbarr Sultana yesterday. I don’t know how our poor emperor puts up with these awful people, I really don’t. I met him, you know, the emperor. He came all the way here to go to my Bart’s funeral. Count Voralys was caught up in the carry on but everyone says he’s fine.”

Flora’s heart lurched. “And Marcus? I mean Armsman Fox? Did Adrian tell you about him?”

“Yes, briefly. It was just a quick message to tell me not to worry. He said they were both fine but they’d had a near miss. Your Marcus saved the day, so Adrian said.”

Flora felt herself blushing. “He’s not my Marcus.”

Ma Walton just smiled. “No, dear, of course not. Anything you say.”

Flora turned on a news vid while she ate. Fire was still something that alarmed her, and to see one in the Great Square gave her chills. The whole scene looked like a nightmare, especially with the pools of red liquid and gory footprints trampled all over the cobbles by the swarming security forces. It was the wrong colour for blood, though, and there’d only been the one medevac as far as she could see, and that one was a woman, more shocked than wounded. There was no sign of either Marcus or the count amongst the bystanders.

All this second-hand information was useless. She punched in the code for Voralys House on the comconsole and reached him first try, much to her surprise as his face sprang into focus. He looked a bit battered.

“Oh, you _did_ get hurt.”

He reached up to touch the side of his head and she saw the patches on his knuckles, too. “Did you get into a fight? There was nothing about that on the news.”

He gave her a heart-stopping smile. “Hi, sweetheart. I didn’t think you’d be up yet. Everyone’s heard what a marvellous job you all did yesterday. Congratulations! how did it go?”

She frowned at him. It looked like he was putting on an act for her benefit. “Don’t you try and sidetrack me, Marcus Fox. How did you get hurt?”

“I fell out of a groundcar and skinned my knuckles, and then we had to take evasive action. The other was a bit of glass, that’s all. Nobody was firing at _us_ , just at the bad guys.”

He looked the picture of innocence. There was more he wasn’t telling her, she was quite sure. “You know I’ll find out. You’d better tell me now.”

He gave her a _helpless male_ look. “Honestly, that’s all that happened. We were leaving The Residence when some lunatics tried to drive a ground car loaded with red dye at the same gates we were using. We ran away, really quickly, but when the canopy shattered the count and I were both hit with fragments of glass. We should have run faster.”

“I’m going to ask Adrian when I see him.”

He smiled again. “Go right ahead. He wasn’t there.”

Thwarted, she gave up, _for the present_. “So when are you coming home?”

“The emperor wants Count Voralys to hang around here for a while as there’s going to be a vote in a couple of days. I like the way you’re calling New Sheffield “home” now, by the way.”

She _had_ said home, hadn’t she? So where _was_ home? She felt her throat close just a little. Her voice sounded husky, almost choked with emotion. “I think home is going to be where you are, Marcus.”

His eyes softened and he took a deep breath. “Home is where the heart is. Flora, would you—” He thought better of what he’d been going to say and stopped.

“Would I what?” She inquired.

“Never mind. I’ll save it for when next I see you face to face. So tell me, how’s Darek? I read the report, but it’s all medspeak gobbledegook.”

“He’ll be hurting like hell today, in all probability. We’ll keep him semi-sedated, but he is going to be one handsome man when the nerve pain, swelling and bruising die down and he finally gets to go home to his family. It went brilliantly. Everyone is so pleased. Dr Wrachmann is fantastic, so much better than that jerk Leckarts. He’s got a real gift for surgery.”

A strange expression crossed his face. She couldn’t begin to understand it. “Where is he now?”

She shrugged. “Sleeping, I suppose, at the District house. He’s under very close surveillance, as you know.”

He nodded. “It needs to stay that way. It’s really for his own good, especially just now. The Cetagandans are causing problems at the Hegen Hub again, and at Rho Ceta. The count just told me.”

“Politics.” She wrinkled her nose. “On that happy note I need to leave for work. I want to stop in at the square and buy some flowers. We’ll be getting Darek to open his eyes today. The sooner his new eyelid starts moving the better. He won’t be able to see much but I want him to tell me what colour they are.”

“Give him my best regards, and Walton’s, too.”

She kissed her fingers and held them up to his image. “Come home when you can. I miss you. Love you, Marcus.”

Just before his vision disappeared she saw him catch the kiss. “You needn’t think you’ve got me fooled, Marcus Fox,” she told the silent comconsole. “I’ll find out what you’ve been up to.”

They were tag-teaming the extended day shift that day, so Fiona still had another four hours’ sleep if she wanted them. Flora left her behind and said goodbye to Ma Walton as she headed out for the florist shop on the square, all on her own for the first time on Barrayar, she realised. She hadn’t had much of a chance recently to enjoy the fresh air, and it was a lovely morning with bright sunshine and just a nip of chill about. After the unending sameness of Beta the changes in the weather were still a delight.

It was reasonably quiet, early still, but the florist was fully stocked. She was after colour, and a bunch of bright yellow mop-headed daisies was just the thing. The transaction was soon completed and Flora wandered back past _The Tea Kettle_ where the lady she’d met on their first day in New Sheffield was out wiping down a table after some breakfast customers.

“Hello, Mrs Percy. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Oh, Miss Dunbar. Hello. Would you be Miss Flora or Miss Fiona? Are you going to have some breakfast?”

“I’m Flora. No, I can’t stop, I’m sorry. I have to get to work. We had a big day yesterday and I want to check on my patient.”

“Yes, we’ve all heard. We’re very happy for him. Give him my best wishes.” Mrs Percy hesitated for a moment. “You wouldn’t have seen either of those armsmen you were with, would you, only I wanted to have a word to one of them.”

“I talked to Armsman Fox not ten minutes ago. He’s in Vorbarr Sultana, and Armsman Walton with him. I could probably pass a message, though. Is it urgent?”

Mrs Percy looked uncertain. “I don’t really know. I hate to bother them, really. It’s just…well, we’ve had a few strangers here this last week. One of them said he was a tourist, but they look, sort of too _sharp_ to be on holiday, if that makes sense. They’re certainly not doing much touring. One of them sat here for nearly three hours. It looked like he was watching the District Office, or the House. I’m probably just being silly, but they made me think of Armsman Fox.”

“Oh.” It did sound a bit odd. “Are they off-worlders? Do they come together?”

“No, they’re Barrayarans as far as I can tell, and always on their own. There’s at least three of them, maybe four as I didn’t pay much attention to start with. It could be a total coincidence, of course, and I’m just being too suspicious. The only thing the same about them really is their haircuts.”

Flora’s instincts started to stir. “Military style haircuts?”

“Yes, or armsmen. You know that look they have.”

“Mrs Percy, I think you need to tell someone. I do know they’re being very cautious about security just now.” What was the name of the armsman who dropped them off at the hospital yesterday? Oh, yes. “Armsman Harper is senior armsman over at the residence at the moment. Ask to speak to him. Tell him I sent you, if you like. He won’t think you’re being silly.” She glanced at her chrono. “I have to rush. I won’t have time to tell Armsman Fox now, but I’ll be sure to pass the message on as soon as I get off duty, so the word should get through one way or the other. I’ll talk to you later. Just keep on watching them, for now, if they come back. Call the Municipal Guard if you think there’s any danger.”

Mrs Percy made up her mind. “Well, I will then, if you think that’s the right thing. I don’t want any harm to come to the count that I might have prevented. If they think I’m a silly woman I can live with that. You have a good day, Miss Flora.”

After being early Flora had only five minutes to spare when she arrived at the hospital. She put the vase of flowers next to the viewing window where Darek would be sure to see it. Once changed and scrubbed up she slipped through the bio shields and into the isolation ward to listen carefully to the changeover report. Their patient’s blood pressure and respiration were both up.

When the night shift nurse left she pulled over a stool and sat by his bed. “Hello Darek. This is Flora. I’ll be looking after you this morning. Fiona is coming in later to take over this afternoon.” She found his hand. “I don’t want you to try to talk, but something is stressing you. Just squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

There was a slight squeeze, but it was there. “OK. We’ll do one squeeze for yes, and two for no. “Are you in too much pain?”

There was a definite two squeezes. “Good. It’s going to be uncomfortable, but you knew that. You don’t have to suffer, though. Is something else wrong?”

Just one squeeze this time. What else could it be? “Are you worried about something?” _Yes._ “There’s no need to worry. We can take care of it.” She’d nursed quite a few men like this. What was he worried about? “Are you scared about Olga?”

It was a long squeeze this time. “She’s been here three times, Darek. You really don’t have to worry about Olga, apart from all the food she’s going to force down your throat once you’re well enough. You must know she loves you no matter what you look like.”

Another single squeeze. He sighed a little. She could just hear it through his dressings. “Oh, Darek. Olga is going to have to fight them off, once you get out of here. I have a list of messages as long as my arm from people wishing you well. All the armsmen, the count and countess, Lady Alys and her husband, Helen and Philip Nicolaides, even Mrs Percy at the tea shop.”

His respiration slowed just a little. “Shall I put some music on? Would you like that?”

He squeezed once. “Now we’re getting somewhere. I’ll give you the options and you squeeze when you like the sound of one. Techno? Classical? Barrayaran Folk? Opera? Love songs?” The last one got the squeeze. “You big teddy bear, or is that steggy, on Barrayar? I’ve only seen steggies in the shops here, no teddy bears at all. Olga’s a lucky woman, _and_ she knows it. When Dr Waleska or Dr Wrachmann get here we’ll try and sit you up a bit. We’ll be changing your dressings, too, but I’ll explain everything. Are you feeling better now?”

One last squeeze. Darek brought his other hand over to pat her hand. Flora found the call button and wrapped his fingers around it. “I’ll be checking every fifteen minutes, but you make sure you press this, if you want anything at all. Just rest and relax.”

By the time Dr Wrachmann and Dr Waleska arrived, Darek was asleep again. They were happy to let him rest for a while, instead going through all the notes and reports while they waited. Dr Wrachmann made some notations, then signed off on the medication chart and handed it back to Flora. She studied it for a moment.

“A Wrachmann. Hmm. I don’t know your first name, Doctor. Is it Adrian, like Armsman Walton? No, let me guess. Alaric. Adler. Not boring old Andy, or Allan, is it?”

He took the teasing in good part. “Keep guessing. I’ll give you a clue. It’s from old Earth, but it’s not European or American.”

“Hmm. Asvini? Anu?”

He shook his head. “Wrong country. Further east.”

“Anshi? Ah?”

“No and no. Not far enough.”

Flora gave up. “My xenogeography isn’t that good.”

The doctor glanced past her. “I think our patient is waking up. It’s Akito.”

She wrinkled her nose. “ _Akito_ Wrachmann? That’s…cosmopolitan.”

“Wrachmann is my mother’s family name, but my first name is from his family, apparently. It means _bright one_.”

“They must have been psychic when they gave you that.” Her attention was diverted to Darek as she took his hand. “Hello, sleepy head. The doctors are here, and we’re going to sit you up. You just squeeze my hand if you want me to stop.”

With the two doctors watching intently, Flora pressed the button to elevate the back of the grav-bed. She stopped before Darek asked her to.

“Excellent, and now I’m going to take off some of these compression bandages across your eyes. Hold Dr Wrachmann’s hand, and he’ll tell me straight way if you need me to stop. We want to get your eyelid moving today if we can.”

Darek Belka sucked in his breath just the once, but he made no move to stop her. She held her hand over his good eye. “Blink if you can, and tell me what colours the flowers are. I’ll give you some choices. Red. Green. Purple. Yellow.”

The all saw the squeeze he gave on yellow.

“Yes! There’ll be no stopping you now, Darek. That’s quite enough for one session, though. Blink when you feel like it, but rest as well. Do you want to ask the doctors any questions?” There was another _Yes_. “About the operation?” _No_. “About your care?” _No_. Flora knew what it was and she had to smile. “When can you go home?” _Yes_.

Dr Wrachmann laughed as well. “Not today, Darek. Not this week, but soon, I promise. You’ve got some excellent nurses.” He started to pull his hand away, but Darek held on to it tightly. With an effort he brought it up over his heart.

“You’re very welcome. You don’t have to thank me. It was my pleasure.”

There was one more _Yes_ before Darek let him go.

 

Marcus Fox thought he’d put on a good act for Flora, but every bit of him ached from head to foot. The only consolation he had was that the count shared his affliction. Down in the kitchen Walton dished out painkillers to them both with an impartial hand. They made a sorry pair.

“Don’t complain to me. What do you expect to happen if you go playing in the great square?” Walton asked as he plonked a cup of hot black coffee in front of him. No doubt he’d like to say the same thing to the count himself, but as they were all sitting around the scrubbed wooden table, not even a metre away from each other, the count had heard every word. Fox folded his fingers round the cup and felt the warmth seep through to his aching knuckles.

“Do you need sick leave, Fox?” The count looked at him anxiously. He was still feeling guilty, but at least he was back to calling him Fox again. Hearing him say Marcus was downright unnerving.

“Are _you_ taking sick leave, my lord count?” Fox didn’t really expect an answer. The count just clutched at his mug and chased down his meds with a wince at the heat of the liquid.“No? Well with only the two of us armsmen here in the capital, you don’t really need me to say yes, do you, sir?”

Walton pulled a tray of spiced bread out of one of the ovens. Fox might have been impressed if he didn’t know it had come from Ma Belka’s flash frozen stash. Very correctly, Walton served his liege first and then appeared at Fox’s elbow. Full silver service was his idea of a joke, obviously. He took the snowy linen napkin from his arm and covered the basket to keep the bread warm before sitting back down beside them. He looked expectantly at the count. “Orders for today, sir?”

“I’ve asked for another interview with the emperor, but we’ll take the ground car this time. I’d like you to stand by to drive, Walton. I have no idea what time he’ll be able to fit us in so it might be a long wait. I’m not planning on going anywhere else today, so I may as well get some work done. Philip is already beavering away up in the office. I should join him. You two can just take it easy.” He didn’t sound too enthusiastic, and made no effort to move.

Fox stood to clear away, but Walton jumped up to press him down into his seat again. “ _You_ take it easy, _old man_. Let me do it.” It was rough and ready, but the solicitude was there, all the same. Walton loaded up the dishwasher and left them to it. They just sat there for a few moments, master and servant. _Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee_ , Fox thought with a touch of irreverence, and he knew which one was Tweedle Dum. It must have shown in his face. Count Voralys smiled back.

“It’s good to see you smile, Fox. I don’t want you beating yourself up about strong-arming me.”

“I should never have done that, sir. You know I’m sorry. I still think I should be punished, though.”

“Right. Have it your way. As your liege lord and holder of your sworn oath I sentence you to six hours with nothing but bread and water. You can have some coffee added to the water and sweet spice in the bread. Consider yourself chastised.”

Well, that was that, then. The count wasn’t going to hold a grudge. Fox let it rest. “Oh, by the way, Fox, did you know the _Kanzian_ made home orbit two days ago? Some of your friends might be back in town. I don’t know what I can do about time off, but if you wanted to meet up we can try and work something out.”

“That won’t be necessary, sir. We can just talk on the com this time around. There’s not many people left on the _Kanzian_ who are close friends. They’ve likely headed straight back to the District to see their families.”

Fox got up from the table at last, but only to brew more coffee. Count Voralys still had something on his mind. He was going to have to play guessing games to winkle it out of him. “That was a bit of surprise last night, sir. I don’t quite know how I feel about it.”

The count groaned. “I’ve been sitting here trying to process it. However am I going to tell the Emperor that the Governor of the planet that launched the invasion is still alive, and that he’s the grandfather of my Betan surgeon?”

“Perhaps he wasn’t governor at the start of the invasion. He might have just been left with the mess to cear up at the end. I’m more worried about the grandma and the bio-warfare blights, sir. That’s a sin that can’t ever be forgiven.”

“True.” The count peered down into his cup. “with this other Cetagandan trouble brewing I think ImpSec is going to have to haul him in. I don’t like the thought of it, myself. I like to think I can judge character, but on the other hand, spies have to be very good at what they do.”

“People get paid to sort out the wheat from the chaff, sir. You don’t have to do it.”

“True again, but I’m responsible for him. These days it seems like every which way I turn I end up wth more commitments. It’s not what I wanted. None of my flow charts end up with relaxing on a beach. I only wanted a peaceful life. All I can wonder is what the hell is coming next.”

He really shouldn’t have spoken. Not two minutes later, Walton buzzed through from the front door. “Fox, is the count still with you? The gate guard just called up. There’s a Trooper Harper here. He says he’s looking for his Uncle Ollie.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It looks like there's going to be a shooting war with Cetaganda.
> 
> Ivan's burns unit is disrupted in the fall out.

Scarlet with embarrassment and standing rigidly to attention, Trooper Harper looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. Walton had brought him round to the staff entrance and Fox introduced him to the count, who had just found another excuse to avoid going up to his office to work. Harper was a tall, well-set young man, fit and healthy, dark like his uncle and very, very uncomfortable just right now. The count tried to make him welcome.

“At ease, Trooper. You’re not on parade here. Walton says you wanted to talk to your Uncle Ollie. Would that be Armsman Harper?”

Fox suppressed a grin. _Uncle Ollie…_ Would he ever live that down? Walton was going to have a field day. Harper-the-younger managed to put his hands behind his back and move his feet shoulder width apart, but anyone less at ease would be hard to find. He obviously hadn’t expected to find a count of Barrayar sitting at his own kitchen table.

“Er, yes, My Lord Count, sir. We just got downside yesterday and now all leave has been cancelled. I’m not going to get to see my Ma and Da over in Prestwich so I thought Unc…Armsman Harper might be willing to look after the presents I got for them from Beta, and see they get them, My Lord Count. Only…I guess he’s not here.”

The count took pity on him. “No, he’s on duty in New Sheffield, but we’ll see your Ma and Da get their presents. Sit down and tell me about the flap. Do you know why your leave’s been cancelled?”

Fox had to push him into a chair. He drew the line at putting a cup of tea into the lad’s hand but left it right in front of him and found a box of Ma Belka’s cookies to tempt him with.

“Only scuttlebutt, My Lord Count. _Kanzian’s_ getting an emergency turn-around and word is we’re heading back to Komarr as fast as the drives will take us. I report back to the transfer depot first thing in the morning.”

“Just call me ‘sir’. You don’t need to call me ‘My Lord Count’ with every breath, Harper. So, you’re a trooper on the _Kanzian_?”

Fox could see faint, tell-tale marks on Harper’s undress greens. “Your uncle mentioned you once, when we were talking about the _Kanzian_. I thought he said you were a corporal. You never fell foul of Service Security when I was aboard ship. It must have been after my time.”

Harper blushed again. “I got demoted, but I deserved it and it’s never going to happen again. I don’t suppose Medtech Dunbar is ever going to forgive me, though. Thank god I’ll never have to see her again.”

“ _Dunbar_?” Startled, Fox and the count both said the name together. Fox went on. “Did you say Dunbar? Was this on Beta?”

Harper nodded unhappily. “On the transfer station. I fell over and knocked her into the bulkhead. That wasn’t the worst of it. I spewed all over her, too. They wouldn’t let me apologise in person. I guess she didn’t want to see me again and I can’t say that I blame her. I was locked up until we broke orbit.”

Fox could just imagine it, but what Flora or Fiona was doing getting mixed up with drunken louts on the transfer station was beyond him. “She’s not the sort to hold a grudge, either of them. They work for the count, now.” At the look of horror on Harper’s face Fox explained. “There’s two of them. Identical twins. They work at New Sheffield District Hospital. Transferred in from Beta to work with burns patients.”

“Oh, I only saw the one, although I was drunk enough to see two.” Harper tried to explain to the count. “There was this Betan jungle juice poison, you see, sir. Bright green, it was, tasted like antifreeze. I should have known better. Cap’n says I’ll get my stripes back if I keep my nose clean for three months.”

Count Voralys tried to look stern, but Fox saw the twinkle in his eye. “Make sure you do. I can pass on your apologies, or better still, Fox can. He sees the ladies more than I do. You don’t know which one it was, do you?”

Harper shook his head. “I don’t remember much about it at all, only what they told me and what I saw afterwards on the security vid, sir.”

“I don’t suppose whichever one it was has forgotten. Fox can ask. Now, you can’t tell me anything else about this flap, can you?”

Harper shrugged. “I shouldn’t really be talking about it at all, but it’s not like you’re spies or anything. My friend Ramos, he’s in Supply, says they’re loading heavy on the munitions and medical supplies. There’s going to be a shooting war somewhere, he reckons.”

All the signs had started to point to it, but why? If the _Kanzian_ was going to run hot for Komarr that meant the Rho Ceta wormhole and the Cetagandans for sure. Fox didn’t suppose the Cetagandans really needed a _why_ to start a war. The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

Once the count made his belated way upstairs to his office Fox turned to Harper. “We can put you up for the night in the armsmen’s quarters, if you like. I’ll just get your Uncle Ollie on the com for you and you can have a talk to him. Have you spoken to your parents yet?”

“No, Armsman.” He looked upset. “I thought I had plenty of time for all that sort of thing. I was going to catch a shuttle down there and surprise them.”

“You can’t head back out without talking to your parents. Don’t alarm them, though, if you can help it. I can connect you once you’ve spoken to Harper, er, your uncle.”

 

It was early afternoon when the summons finally came from The Residence. Trooper Harper was firmly ensconced in the staff rec room under the eye of the housekeeper. He seemed to want nothing more than to relax and watch one of the latest vids, so they left him to it. With Walton driving again, Fox and the count headed out. Security personnel were everywhere. The street leading to Ops HQ was locked down, something that rarely happened. There was a cordon around the embassy district, too, and they were stopped three times at checkpoints. At the final one even the count had to produce his identity card to a very hard-faced ImpSec sergeant. There were no lowly troopers on the last line of defence. Fox, Walton and the count all felt the tension.

“What the hell’s happened, do you think?” Walton asked Fox as they finally pulled up under the East Portico. He could only shrug.

“No idea. I don’t suppose we’ll ever find out, either. It’s damn serious, whatever it is. They’ll put the car in a holding area, so you stay with it. See if you can find out anything, but this lot are pretty close-mouthed.”

Security was tedious, to put it politely. The emperor’s Armsman Commander, Gerard, had more than a stunner on his hip. He wasn’t dressed in his ceremonial uniform, either. He had his combat gear on. The count whistled silently. “I heard the armsmen have worn this only once before. We _must_ be at the point of war.”

When they were finally allowed in to see the emperor, Count Voralys motioned for Fox to come with him. “He wants to see you, too.” Gerard closed in behind, only a step away. Fox’s shoulder blades itched at the menace following them.

Emperor Gregor normally didn’t give much away, but his face was as grim as Fox had ever seen it. Count Voralys strode over to where he was standing by the window.

“Gregor! What the hell’s happened?”

The emperor reached out to shake his hand. “You may as well know, Ivan. It’ll be common knowledge soon enough. The Cetagandan ambassador is on his way to the shuttleport. They've closed the embassy. He's been recalled _and_ he's been screaming to the press for the last hour, promising retribution on a grand scale. We can only begin to imagine what that might involve. A thousand Star Crèche uterine replicators have been found in a warehouse out near the shuttleport. They’re claiming we’ve murdered their babies at Rho Ceta.”

“ _What_? What the hell would we do that for? We’re not quite that suicidal yet, are we? Since when did Barrayarans go around murdering babies? Oh.” He shut up in a hurry. "Other people's, anyway."

The emperor waved to a chair. “Sit down. You, too, Fox. I wanted to thank you in person for your actions yesterday, but this development has complicated matters. What with your adventure, Ivan, we’re beginning to think it’s all connected somehow.”

“What, yesterday’s little stunt? You’d better start at the beginning.”

Fox reluctantly took a hard chair just to the left and a little behind the count’s padded armchair. Gerard moved to one side, where he could cover the both of them, and remained standing. What in Yuri’s name did he think they were going to do, anyway? Strangle the emperor with their bare hands?

The emperor sat, but he didn’t relax. “ImpSec have been working overtime. It would appear that a Jacksonian house is behind the attempt to claim back the land where the ImpSec building is. They’ve offered to buy it. It used to belong to an old mansion called Ladderbeck Close, which just happened to be the base for a Cetagandan bio-lab among other things. On further digging it turns out that the matriarch of this Arqua clan was once a Cetagandan haut trophy-wife to ghem General Rae Estif.”

“There’s something there they want?”

“Apparently so. It was a very clumsy attempt to force my hand. All it did was alert us all to the possibility that they left something behind, and as Guy Allegre points out, the haut ladies work on human genetics.”

Fox felt his skin crawl. “Bio weapons, sire?”

The emperor glanced at him. “You follow me.”

Count Voralys shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I think you should know we’ve found out who our CetaBetan is, or at least who he’s related to. That’s what I came here to tell you. His grandmother is the Haut Lady Zaia Giaja and his grandfather, if you don’t mind, is none other than the Haut Lord Kaito Rond, one time governor of Rho Ceta.”

The emperor sat back and rubbed his face with his hand, momentarily silenced. It took him a good minute to speak. “We really didn’t need this complication. I didn’t tell you the name of General Estif’s wife, did I? Lady d’Estif was once the Haut Lady Moira _Rond_ , before her demotion and marriage. They’d be the same age, give or take a few years. That’s too much of a coincidence.”

“You think they’re working together, somehow? I really don’t get that impression from Dr Wrachmann. I’m sure he’s no spy.”

The emperor’s face hardened. “And I’m sure that we’ll have to find out, one way or the other. Major Karasavas will be detailed to bring him in.”

Fox could see his count’s expression. The burns treatment program was going to be doomed, at this point. There wouldn’t be another surgeon willing to come to Barrayar once they found out what happened to the present one. It was a minor consideration though, compared to the calamity hanging round their ears. He’d have to forget about that for the moment.

“So what _are_ you going to do about this Ladderbeck Close?” the count asked.

“Nothing, for the present. It’s a long way down the list of priorities. We have to convince the Cetas we had no hand in the loss of their child ship, and we have to reinforce the Komarr jump points with everything that will still fly, just in case they’re in no mood to listen, which is certainly the case at the moment. They might well come through the back door in Sector Five, too, so we’re stretched thin at the moment. Too thin.”

“Won’t the Vervainis help?”

The emperor nodded. “We’re activating the Hegen Hub alliance treaty as we speak. We’ve been framed, Ivan. If it’s these Arquas who have done it that just doesn’t make sense, and it’s a very devious frame indeed. We've had a good working relationship before this. They’re in a turf war with House Prestene at the moment, and they’re on the losing side. If they’ve taken a bribe from the Cetas to try and get their jump station back, you can just begin to imagine what that might mean.”

It was the count’s turn to rub his face. For all he tried to avoid politics, he was well up with the implications. “A second back door, with Sigma Ceta involved as well, and Sergyar in the way. _Hell’s bells_.”

There was silence for a moment as they all contemplated the future. The count pulled himself together at last. “What can I do to help, Sire?”

“We’ll need your vote in Council, of course, but otherwise not a lot. I’ll be passing on your information to Guy for him to use as he sees fit. I might have to send someone under the radar to Beta, but you’re too high profile. I wonder if Byerly Vorrutyer could do it. I’ll have to take advice on that one.”

“Won’t By love that, but he’d do a good job for you, Gregor.” The count rose to go. “I won’t keep you any longer. There must be dozens of people screaming for you.”

The emperor’s eyes flickered slightly. Was that the hint of a sigh? “As always. Thank you, Ivan.” The emperor shook hands with them both. “And thank you, Fox, for your good work. I’m rather fond of my cousin. I’d hate to lose him.”

 

Flora and Fiona were both on duty. It was change of shift and they were running through the ward report together. Flora commented on the data. “Darek’s finally able to talk. Dr Wrachmann had me take the last of the compression bandages off this morning. We’ve decreased the pain meds. Bleeding has stopped and there’s been no further bruising. All his vital signs are good. Swelling is decreasing and his vision is doing fine. He’ll be able to communicate without much trouble at all, but talking is limited as we don’t want him tearing the graft along the lip line. I don’t think he will, though, as the surgery was too good for that. All of the micro sutures have held, as far as I can tell, and you know how fantastic that is.”

Fiona nodded. “There’s nearly always one or two, at least, that rupture. At this rate he won’t have any scarring at all.”

“Not if he’s a good patient and behaves himself. No violent outbursts of emotion, no sudden movements, or things like that. He’s been great so far, though.”

There was a bustle in the outer offices. Flora and Fiona looked at each other in surprise. Flora spoke. “There shouldn’t be anyone there just now. You’ve just scrubbed in. I’ll go and see what it is and let you know.”

She hurried out, disposing of her gown and mask and scrubbing her hands in automatic routine along the way. She pulled up short at the door to Dr Wrachmann’s office. A very angry-looking Dr Waleska had three stern-faced ImpSec personnel with him. Two of them were searching the place while the third manipulated a device attached to the comconsole.

“Oh! What’s going on? We heard a commotion.”

Dr Waleska was tight-lipped as he spoke to her. “Dr Wrachmann has been detained by Imperial Security. They’re going to take him to Vorbarr Sultana for interrogation. He’s leaving once these…men…have finished here.”

“ _What_? They can’t do that! We need him! Darek needs him.”

“They’ve done it. General Allegre’s orders. I can’t get in contact with the count just yet. Apparently he’s at The Residence in conference with the emperor. There’s only Philip Nicolaides left at Voralys House at the moment.”

This was just outrageous. Dr Wrachmann wasn’t a criminal. “The poor man! This is awful. Are you sure there’s nothing you can do, Doctor?”

He shook his head. “I’ll keep trying. Luckily the treatment regime for Belka is very straightforward. I can deal with it if I have to. But this—” His frustrated gesture encompassed the disordered office. “—This is just _wrong_.”

Flora didn’t know what to do. Dismay mingled with anger. “ _Barrayarans!_ This place is just _crazy!_ I hope he’s being allowed to contact the Betan Embassy. I’ll report it myself if I have to.”

The officer dealing with the comconsole looked up sharply at that. “Imperial Security, ma’am. I’ll need your word you won’t say anything about this, or you’ll have to be detained as well.”

“ _What?_ ” Flora could hardly believe her ears. “You’re going to arrest _me?_ "I have a patient to care for, not to mention my civil rights, or don’t you have such things on this backwards planet?”

Dr Waleska intervened. “That won’t be necessary, Vorberg. Medtech Dunbar will allow me to handle this.” He turned to look at her, a distinct message in his eyes. “Won’t you, Medtech? We need you here.”

Flora swallowed her wrath as best she could. “If you say so, Doctor. But under protest. My sister will have to know.”

He nodded. “Of course, but no further. Don’t tell Belka what’s happened. He doesn’t need to be disturbed just yet.”

“Your word, ma’am.” The ImpSec lieutenant was still regarding her with a determined intensity. That was right. These Barrayarans place a lot of emphasis on one’s word.

“Very well, Lieutenant, you have my word of honour. If I find out Dr Wrachmann has come to harm I won’t keep silent, though. I’ll raise an unholy stink about it. You have my word on that, too.”

“He’s only being requested to go to Vorbarr Sultana for questioning at this stage, ma’am. The only _harm_ that will come to him will be if he’s convicted of an offence, after due process, and if it goes that far he’ll have competent legal representation.”

He finished what he was doing and packed away his instrument. The other two men didn’t look like they’d found anything and actually made half an attempt to set the place to rights again as they closed cupboard doors and straightened up the files back into their cabinet. Flora watched them march out.

“Whatever were they looking for, anyway?” she asked the doctor as he started to follow them.

“Who knows? The emperor wouldn’t have sanctioned this lightly, is all I can say. What it’s going to do to the programme is another matter entirely. We’ve still got three men to treat from the Tanery Base explosion. We can’t let them down, but I’ll never find another surgeon like Wrachmann.”

“Won’t he come back? They won’t find anything, surely?”

Dr Waleska looked back over his shoulder at her as he hurried to catch up with the ImpSec squad. “Would you, Medtech, if you’d been treated like this? _Damn_ politics.”

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tarpan finally makes a move.
> 
> WARNING for bad language. It may offend ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a little early as I have a busy weekend.

 

“It’s such a beautiful planet. Shame about some of the people.” Just off shift, Flora stopped for a moment to settle her ruffled sensibilities and take some deep breaths of the fresh air. She watched the late afternoon sun cast dapples of light through the autumn foliage. There were little coins of light scattered across the ancient cobbles of the square, dancing around as the chill breeze fluttered the leaves. It was a moment of peace she badly needed. Fiona had been incandescent with rage when she’d found out what had happened to Dr Wrachmann, made all the worse by her impotent fury as she had to pretend nothing was wrong in front of Darek Belka. There’d be an explosion when she got home that night. Flora wasn’t looking forward to it. Just for now though, she dwelled in the present, letting the autumn air clear her head.

Acting on impulse, she crossed the square to the florist’s shop. Fresh flowers were a constant delight, and so cheap compared to Beta. Colour and beauty was what she needed now, with maybe some soothing classical music in the background. Failing that, there was always chocolate. Like hot tea, chocolate cured just about everything.

There were armsmen near the florist. She recognised the uniforms first. Three of them formed a perimeter ten metres from the entrance, and another one stood guard at the door. Most of the general populace was steering well clear, and all the outside tables of _The Tea Kettle_ were vacant, too. As she got closer Flora made out the distinctive red hair of the young man who’d introduced himself back in Vorbarr Sultana. Price, that’s what his name was. He stood at a stiff parade rest at the door to the shop. He had a different uniform on now, though, the same as all the rest of them, the insignia identical to her own, the District acorn and oak leaf sigil.

One of the perimeter guards held his hand up as she approached. “Please stand back, ma’am.”

She could see a name on his tunic. “What is it? Is something wrong, Armsman Driscoll?”

“No ma’am. The countess is visiting the flower shop, with Ma Belka and the children. They won’t be long.”

She smiled at him. “Oh, that’s right. Olga was going to bring Stefa and Piotr to the hospital today to see their Da. She told me so yesterday. They’ll get such a surprise. We’re going to let him have a mirror tom—”

“I can’t chat with you, ma’am. I’m on duty. Please just wait over there.” His eyes continually scanned the square and the windows surrounding it, attention definitely elsewhere.

“Oh.” Flora bit her lip. It was too easy to take offence right at the moment. He hadn’t meant to be rude, she decided. He was just doing his job. Perhaps it was best to go buy chocolate instead. She turned to leave, but _no_. She wanted her flowers. It wouldn’t do any harm to wait a few minutes. Instead she retreated several metres towards the centre of the square and waited by one of the lamp posts for them to come out, dwelling on the very un-Betan ideas of class privilege. As she stood there a Municipal Guard cruiser crossed the side of the square in front of the District offices, passed the count’s official groundcar as it waited for its passengers and made a lazy U-turn where the side street led off to the District House. It settled with a sigh as the fans powered down. Keeping an eye on things, no doubt. Security here was as tight as it had ever been.

Three children, not two, came out of the shop. One, a boy, she knew was Piotr, thin and gangly, verging on the edge of puberty. She’d seen both of the girls before, too. The taller one was Stefa, Olga’s little girl, and the other was Marie, the count’s adopted daughter and much the same age. That was why Price was here, of course. He seemed to be her constant shadow from what Flora had seen. Piotr and Stefa had posies of multicoloured daisies, but Marie’s were all different shades of pink. Stefa and Marie seemed delighted with their flowers but Flora had to smile at the way Piotr tried to pretend he wasn’t really carrying his. Marie stopped to show Price what she’d bought.

A movement in the square caught Flora’s attention at the same time as Marie noticed it as well. The young girl cried out and pointed as a streak of grey shot across the cobbles towards them.

“Oh, Price, Look! It’s Prince Xav. How naughty. He got away again!” She thrust her flowers into the startled armsman’s hands and hurried over to pick up her wayward pet.

Price was just too late to stop her. “Lady Marie! Don’t run like that. You know what your Da always says.”

It all happened so fast Flora couldn’t believe her eyes. A window rolled down on the Guard cruiser. There was a flash and then something landed with a thud and a hiss between Marie and the cordon of armsmen. Gas billowed out, pluming to envelop Marie. The breeze that had ruffled the leaves so prettily not five minutes before sent the cloud drifting towards the flower shop. The bellows of alarm from the perimeter armsmen cut short as they fell back, cries choked by the gas. Torn, Price hesitated for a second to slam shut the door of the flower shop before he dived for his charge, plasma arc in his hand. Flora, not in the direct line of the gas, leapt forward as well when she saw the little girl’s eyes roll back in her head. She sucked in a huge breath and held it as she tried to reach Marie. A plasma bolt sizzled past her head but missed the Guard cruiser as it shot across the square on full power. As it slammed to a halt the downdraft from the fans sent the gas flurrying upwards in the backwash. The canopy flew open and a squad of men boiled out. Dressed in combat fatigues and hidden by their respirators they fired stunners in a co-ordinated spread. One fell to better-aimed plasma fire as a second bolt cut through his body. Just as Flora’s arms closed around Marie to break her fall a heavy stunner beam caught them both fair and square, with the cat sandwiched between their bodies. Her breath whooshed out as she descended into darkness and knew nothing more.

 

Flora woke to something wet and warm rasping across her face. Pain shot through her skull as she tried to open her eyes. There was a sound, almost like a baby crying, but not quite. It was…it was the mew of a cat, close to her ear. Nausea made her gag suddenly and whorls of light spiralled behind her eyes. She turned her head away, only to have the cat lick her ear. It batted at her face with a velvet paw. Desperately, she sucked in a few deep breaths to try and control the need to vomit.

“Mrowww.” The cat batted at her again, it claws needle sharp this time. It was impossible to ignore. Flora forced her eyes open and struggled to sit up. Prince Xav pushed his head under her hand and arched his back as she tried to take stock of her surroundings. It was an automatic response to stroke him. “Thank you, puss. Are you frightened?” Her voice came out as a low, croaking whisper. She badly needed a drink.

It was dark. She was in some sort of storeroom, lit only by what must be a streetlight shining through a high, narrow window. As her eyes adjusted and focussed at last she could see, not two metres away, a small, still form lying across a pile of, what…old, broken down packing cases?

Flora could only crawl across the floor as her arms and legs still refused to obey her brain’s commands. Frantic, she felt for a pulse and tilted her ear to listen for respiration. There! As she felt an irregular beat under her fingers she almost collapsed again with the swamping tide of relief. _She was still alive_. Marie was cold though, and still well under. Who would do such a dreadful thing to a little girl? Prince Xav pushed between the two of them, licking at Marie’s face and mewling with heart-rending anxiety. What could that gas have been? Sevoflurane, perhaps, or one of the halothanes? No, not halothane. She’d caught a faint, sweet odour at the time, and Prince Xav had obviously recovered before either of the humans. His body had metabolised the gas differently. Flora hadn’t inhaled it before she’d been stunned, though. It was the first time she’d been hit by a stunner beam and her brain wouldn’t work to calculate the effects and side effects of the various anaesthetic drugs she knew about. Had she breathed it in too, or not?

It _had_ to have been Sevoflurane, and in a completely uncontrolled dose. It could have killed Marie. Whoever used it hadn’t really cared, one way or the other. If it was Luca Tarpan he deserved everything Marcus was most certainly going to dish out to him.

“Sweetheart, can you hear me?” Flora rubbed her knuckles on Marie’s breastbone and pinched her ear to no effect. She gathered Marie up into her arms and cradled her across her lap as she leaned back against the wall for support. She tried to make them both as comfortable as she could, with Prince Xav curled up between them like a living hot water bottle. Her eyes became a little better accustomed to the dark. She could make out a ceiling light, but there were no controls near the door, or anywhere else for that matter. They must be on the other side. The place was like a giant janitorial cupboard, with bottles of liquid stored on metal racks along one wall, cleaning materials, odd bits of what looked like lab equipment and various boxes stacked into two of the corners. She thought about piling the boxes up to the window, but most of them looked very flimsy, and there was no way out once she got there. Perhaps she could break the old fashioned glass somehow and call for help. It was odd that there was very little dust; the room must have been set up and used recently. Flora swallowed a sob. How had she ever got into this sort of trouble? _Marcus_. She needed him. She couldn’t have him right now though. And if she was going to try to escape she needed all her wits about her. She’d have to wait for the stunner migraine to ease off.

Marcus _would_ come for them, but Marcus was hours away in Vorbarr Sultana, and the count, too. Had Countess Voralys escaped? Stefa and Piotr? She’d seen one man hit by a plasma bolt; had there been other casualties after she passed out? Her head ached even more, thinking about it all.

 _Help_. She needed to call for help. Her chrono was gone, and she hadn’t been wearing a wristcom. Marie had nothing, either. Their captors had been careful to strip them both of anything useful. Even Flora’s belt had gone, and her boots, too. Her hair cascaded down her back. What they thought she’d be able to do with hairpins she had no idea. Prince Xav still had his collar, and that was about it.

Flora hugged Marie all the tighter, and fought her terror and the stunner migraine both as she waited for help to arrive. She repeated her mantra over and over in her head as she waited for Marie to stir. _Marcus would come_.

 

There wasn’t really such a thing as off shift at the moment, but Fox relaxed in the ready room on their return from The Residence. Count Voralys had dismissed both his armsmen once he was safely ensconced in the office with Philip Nicolaides. The District still didn’t run itself despite all the count’s attempts to delegate the work. _Neither did the Armsmen’s cadre._ Fox had the day’s log to write up and the reports from New Sheffield to run through, but he could do that later. Just for the moment, though, he put his feet up to take a power nap. His aching muscles and adrenalin jag hadn’t given him a quiet night and he badly needed to sleep…

His boots clattered to the floor and he jerked awake as the comconsole blared an alarm. It was Harper, dirty and wild-eyed. “Fox, put me through to the count. They’ve got her. Those bastards have snatched Lady Marie.”

Fox’s fist smashed down on the alert siren. Seconds later the house shields came on. Walton must have activated them at the front door. He burst into the ready room at a run just as the count’s face appeared on the split screen along with Harper, who choked out his report.

“There was a gas attack, sir, in the square, from a _Guard cruiser_. We didn’t think anything of it when it showed up. It was the sort of thing any good Guard unit would do. My lady had taken Ma Belka and the children to buy flowers for Darek. They were going to visit him this afternoon, see, and wanted flowers. There were six of us guarding them and they still— Countess Voralys is safe, sir. Price slammed the door to the flower shop shut, Kosa was inside with her and evacuated her through the rear door. Ma Belka isn’t hurt. Piotr and Stefa were affected by gas but they recovered quickly when they got some first aid. Lady Marie…she was further away, with that damned cat she’d run over to get. The gas cut us off and they took them. Price got one of the bastards but he’s dead so we can’t question him. Driscoll couldn’t fire. Lady Marie was in his line of sight and by the time he dived they’d got them. His first shot went wide to try for the getaway cruiser. He was hit by a stunner before he could do another thing.”

It was a nightmare. Fox had to be dreaming. Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did.

The count had turned as white as a sheet. “Them? What do you mean by _them_ , Harper?” Philip Nicolaides had moved behind him and had one hand on his shoulder, gripping it tight. Harper dropped another bombshell.

“One of the medtechs from the burns unit was taken, along with Lady Marie, sir. Driscoll doesn’t know if it was collateral damage, or if she was there as a diversion. She’d spoken to him not a minute before it all went down. He remembers her running in towards Lady Marie, just before the gas and the stunner took him down. He got off the one plasma round but his aim was wide, he said.”

Fox had to intervene. “Which one was it, Harper? Do you know?”

“No. We’re short on personnel. There’s only a skeleton ImpSec squad left here. Ensign Vormayer is in charge, as Karasavas and Vorberg took off to Vorbarr Sultana with Wrachmann. We can’t call on the Municipal Guard for help, obviously.”

What a horrible, hideous nightmare! Fox’s first loyalty was always to the family; to Marie. “What about her wrist locator, Harper?”

“Dumped, along with her necklace, a chrono and an identity card. Sarmiento tracked them down first thing. They either knew the necklace was the real locator or were taking no chances.”

“And the identity card?”

Harper shrugged. “Sarmiento just said Dunbar. He didn’t say which one.”

There was a snarl from the count. “We’re wasting time. Fox, have the flyer at the front door in five minutes. Walton, the armoury, now. Philip is coming as well, so four of everything. Harper, I want status reports every ten minutes. I hope to god you’ve found her before I get there.”

Fox had one last idea before he ran. “Get Major Vorjenner from the gym if you need reinforcements, Harper. He’s a good man.”

“Will do. Harper out.”

On full power the flyer screamed towards New Sheffield. It still wasn’t fast enough for any of them. Sitting in the front compartment as if that would get him there faster the count pounded on the control panel in impotent fury as he loosed a string of curses to rival Walton’s best.

“A Guard cruiser. _A Guard cruiser!_ That had to be Darian’s work, the fucker. If he got it willingly from any serving trooper he’ll be up against the wall alongside that twelve-toed mutant when I get my hands on him. And Tarpan—” He choked. “If he’s laid a finger on Marie I’m going to rip them off one by one and feed them to that bastard through the second arsehole I’m going to tear for him. Mad Yuri himself won’t be in more bits than him by the time I’m done.”

Fox contemplated the idea in grim detail. There’d be a queue of armsmen to help the count, not to mention Simon Vorillyan. What was _he_ doing right now? Harper hadn’t mentioned him. One thing he _wouldn’t_ be doing was sitting on his backside waiting for news, like they were, and that was a dead certainty.

The reports were inconsequential for a while. Harper kept up the communications, feeding them snippets as Fox blasted through the darkening skies. The odd lighted settlements below them slipped past, barely noticed blurs testifying to the speed of their passing. Karasavas and Vorberg reported in. They were redlining it on their way back with the three man team of reinforcements Guy Allegre had been able to allow them. This was just a sideshow compared to the events happening on an Imperial scale and there were no more to spare. The count couldn’t rely on much more help from that quarter, not any time soon, anyway. The emperor had been informed, though. No doubt he’d do all he could.

Harper relayed Ensign Vormayer’s messages. He had just about depleted ImpSec Voralys District’s stocks of fasta-penta. Sheridan, the Guard Commander, knew nothing about the snatch, which was one bright spark in the darkness. The regular patrol men had been located in a dumpster, stunned and tied. It hadn’t been an inside job, as far as they could tell. Everything pointed to Darian and his familiarity with the Guard’s routines.

They were less than twenty minutes out from New Sheffield when Harper’s voice came through. He wasn’t due to report again for another five minutes, but they could tell something had happened as he struggled to contain his excitement. “My lord, Price had an idea. Wherever Lady Marie is, Prince Xav is sure to be with her unless they’ve killed and dumped him, of course. He was nowhere to be found in the square or the house, and we did look. We switched the frequency on the search scanner and we’ve got a signal from his collar locator! We’re closing in on it now.”

“Yes!” The count just about put his fist through the control panel again. “Yes, yes, yes!” He took a deep breath. “Make sure the place is completely surrounded. Use Sheridan if you have to. I want a leak proof cordon. If you think there’s any imminent danger follow Simon Vorillyan’s orders and get her out stat. Otherwise, wait for me. We’re coming in hot.”

Walton hadn’t said much, but as he lowered the cabin divider to hand through combat belts, helmets and weapons, he came out with what they were all thinking. “Who would have thought we’d be grateful to that four-legged flea bag? He can do anything he wants from now on if he leads us to Lady Marie. I’ll never swear at him again. In fact I’ll kiss him right on his fish-breath mouth.”

The count checked his plasma rifle and stunner. “We don’t know for certain that he’s with her. It’s a damned good chance that he is, though. Aren’t we nearly there yet, Fox? What’s taking so much frigging time?”

Fox started powering down. “Two minutes out, my lord. I’m waiting for safe landing co-ordinates. We don’t want to tip anyone off at the last minute.”

They came in on a slow spiral, but were directed to the commercial shuttleport where their arrival would be camouflaged by the regular traffic. Harper and Simon Vorillyan were waiting for them. The count’s step-father wore a spare set of combat fatigues, carried a plasma rifle with practised ease and exuded menace from every pore. Everyone present, including the count, braced to attention when he as much as looked at them. No wonder this man had been so feared when he headed up the emperor’s security.

He wasted little time. “We’ve got them cornered, Ivan. Thermal scanning shows five adult perpetrators, in two rooms. Marie, Flora and Prince Xav all show up at the back of the premises. It’s an old brick built warehouse; TOI architecture. There’s a garage with at least one ground car, probably the cruiser. The drive motor is still slightly warm but cooling. There’s very little movement but their thermal signatures are right. They’re still alive. The window is too small to get in or out that way and the walls are over thirty centimetres thick. We think it might be another of Clarence’s safe houses, so we’re holding back and checking for tunnels. You will _not_ be leading the negotiations, Ivan. Leave that to me. You’re too close.”

Fox sucked in a deep breath at the same time as Walton exhaled in relief. “You’re sure it’s Flora Dunbar, sir, not Fiona?”

He nodded. “Yes, Fox. Dr Waleska has confirmed Fiona was on duty at the time. She’s frantic, of course, but Wally is with her. They’re standing by at the hospital.”

Walton leaned over to grasp Fox’s arm. “We’ll get her back safely, Marcus. Leave it to us.”

“The _hell_ I will.” Fox strode off to the ground car. “What are we wasting time for?”

He recognised the district they drove to, not far from the shuttleport. “This is where we found Starla Johnson, not three hundred metres over that way. That bastard _was_ watching us, and laughing.”

Ensign Vormayer, at the perimeter control point, hurried forward as soon as the car came to a stop. Simon Vorillyan took one look at his grim face. “What is it now, Vormayer? What have you found out?”

Vormayer swallowed. “The identity of the casualty has just come through, sir. He’s…it’s been confirmed. He’s…he _was_ , an armsman. One of Count Voranson’s score.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flora finally meets Luca Tarpan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's celebrate this weekend and have two chapters. One early tonight and one on Sunday.

 

Marie whimpered and stirred. Prince Xav sprang awake, too, startling Flora. The cat _talked_ to his young owner. Flora could hear it in the yowling mews interspersing the frantic face-licking. Marie stirred again and her eyelids flickered. Her pulse was stronger, too.

“Marie, honey, can you hear me? It’s Flora Dunbar. Wake up, darling.”

It took a couple of minutes, but Marie’s eyes opened and stayed open. She gazed around the dim room with bewilderment. Flora could tell when she realised something was wrong. Her whole body tensed and she clutched for Prince Xav. “Where’s my Da? Where’s My Ivan?”

“He’s coming, sweetheart. He’s looking for us. I’m sure of that. We’ve been taken away by some bad people. I’ll look after you. I promise.”

Marie sobbed just the once and drew herself in even further as she tilted down her head to pillow it against her cat. She reached for her wrist and cried out with alarm when she realised her com link was missing.

“How can he find me? I haven’t got my screamer! Price will be so cross. I promised him I’d never take it off.”

Flora hugged her a little tighter. “Shh. They took my chrono, too. I had an idea while you were asleep. Do you think Prince Xav could go for help, if we put him out of that high window? It’s too small for us to get through.”

Marie followed Flora’s pointing finger and looked at the tiny opening. “How would he get down on the other side? He’s only a little cat. He could get lost.”

“Everyone will be searching for him, I’m sure. Just like they are for us. Why don’t we give it a try? It will help your Da know where to look.”

Marie clutched Prince Xav all the closer. “I don’t want him to go. He’s too frightened.”

Flora couldn’t argue with that. She was frightened, too. “It was only an idea.”

Marie thought some more. “Papi Simon says everybody is frightened, but brave people do the right thing even when they are scared.”

“That’s true, but he was talking about grown ups, honey. You don’t have to be brave about this. We’ll just wait for your Da, and your Papi Simon.”

Marie sniffed. “What is this place, anyway? It smells funny in here.”

“It’s a storeroom, Marie. Be careful not to touch anything as I think those are cleaning chemicals over there. They might be bleach or something.”

Now that Marie had pointed it out, the smell in the room _was_ peculiar, not like any cleaning products Flora was familiar with. They could be Barrayaran specialities, of course, but the basic solvents or antibacterials had to be pretty universal. And why did any company need more than twenty bottles all the same shape and size, and _why_ couldn't she see any labels on them?

_Oh…_

It was too dark for any colour to show in the gloom, but if they were still there come daylight, Flora wasn’t going to take bets on what colour they were. It had to be purple. _They were locked up in Tarpan’s lab._ He must have started manufacturing his killer drug right here in New Sheffield. What else was he cooking up on the other side of that wall? She really didn’t want to know.

 

One of her questions was answered when the light suddenly flicked on. Yes, the bottles were full of purple liquid. There really wasn’t much time to think about that as the door opened. Flora had to squint to see the man standing there as her eyes were slow to adjust. He was quite unremarkable, perhaps a little on the short side for Barrayarans, middle aged with a slight paunch and receding sandy brown hair. Once he stepped further into the storeroom, though, she saw his face more clearly. She’d never forget _this_ man. The look in his brown eyes made her skin crawl as the hairs on the back of her neck rose and a nameless fear clutched at her belly. _She’d never seen true evil before._

“You’re awake, then. About time. I need a little souvenir to send to Ivan _Hero_ Vorpatril. What shall it be? An ear, perhaps, or a finger?”

Flora leapt to her feet and thrust Marie behind her as best she could. “You’re not going to touch this little girl! What has she ever done to you?”

His lips curled up into a mocking sneer. “What’s between me and Vorpatril is personal, now, very personal, and he needs to find out just how serious I am.”

She could only stare at him for a moment. “You have to be _crazy_. You’ll never get out of here alive.”

“Oh, I know that. I knew that as soon as they picked up Louis. What Miles Vorkosigan, Ivan Vorpatril and Gregor _fucking_ Vorbarra don’t know is just how sorry I’m going to make them for every day for the rest of their lives, for what they did to him, and to Cezar. Kurt and I vowed—” He broke off and sniggered. “I’m sure he’ll get my message. All of them will.” His eyes changed again as he looked at her. “Oh well, it doesn’t have to be the brat, I suppose. I’ll let him wonder about _her_ a while longer. You’ll do nicely. It doesn’t do to raise the stakes too highly on the first round, does it?”

She hardly saw him move, but suddenly a wicked knife gleamed in his hand. Marie whimpered behind her. Flora’s mouth went dry. Her voice sounded strange to her own ears. “Don’t you dare! I’m a Betan citizen!”

His laugh was genuinely amused. “Oh! Oh no! I’m done for! What have I done? A Betan citizen, no less. What a fool I am. By the time they’ve taken a vote and written their formal protest I’ll be an old man, won’t I?” He tapped the blade on the end of his fingers. “What ever shall I do?” His hand flashed out. Flora reared back in alarm, but the blade hissed past perilously close to her ear before she’d hardly moved. A thick lock of chestnut hair fell to the ground. “Pick it up,” he ordered. “Pick it up and give it to me, or it _will_ be your ear.”

Never taking her gaze from his face she reached down and found the long coil of hair where it lay on the floor. She snatched her hand back away from the touch of his fingers.

“Good. I see we understand each other. I _shall_ be back.”

The door closed behind him and she heard the thud of an old fashioned bolt slamming into place. Seconds later the light winked out again. Flora had to fight to keep her own emotions under control as she turned to the silently weeping Marie. It wouldn’t help matters if she broke down and bawled her eyes out.

“Your Da is coming, Marie. He’ll be here soon.”

Marie tried to stop sniffling. Her breathing was interspersed with hiccups. “That was a bad man. He cut your hair!”

“That was a very bad man, honey. Your Da has been trying to catch him for a long time.”

“He said such a naughty word, too. Prince Xav didn’t like him, either. I had to hold on to him real tight.”

Tarpan would be just the sort to hurt Prince Xav in front of Marie. The only wonder was that he hadn’t thought of it already. Flora shuddered. “Yes. You hold on to your cat very carefully if he comes back.”

Marie came to a decision. “Perhaps we _should_ let Prince Xav escape. I don’t want that bad man to get him.”

Any sort of action would distract her from what had just happened. Flora felt around for something to stand on. There was a carton full of empty bottles, brand new and waiting to be filled. If she tipped that on its end it might just be tall enough…

The window frame was set into the outside of the wall, so there was a deep recess on their side. The glass was solid, but it didn’t look like reinforced plexiglass or anything fancy like that. Fortunately the building was so old there’d been no attempt at weather sealing or double glazing. Flora levered herself up. _Oh!_ They were in a _basement_. She hadn’t guessed. For once the luck was falling their way and the window looked out on street level. They’d have to be quick, though. The sound of breaking glass was sure to bring somebody running. Flora hopped back down, stripped off her uniform tunic and shimmied out of her undershirt before fastening the tunic up again. She hunted around some more, feeling with her hands mostly and found a retort stand among the lab equipment, about a metre long and blessedly solid. An unwanted part of Tarpan’s chemistry set, no doubt?

“Get ready, Marie. Pass Prince Xav up to me the second I break this glass. We’ll only get one chance.”

She wrapped her shirt around the top of the stand to muffle the sound as best she could, leaned back and put all her force into the blow. A spider-web spread across the pane, but it didn’t break. The thump sounded horribly loud in the little room. Frantically she tried again, and again. In desperation she pulled the shirt off the end and hit solidly, metal to glass. The window splintered into a thousand sharp-edged cubes. Most of them shot outwards but some fell into the recess. Flora grabbed her shirt and swept them out to the floor. She didn't want to risk Prince Xav standing on them.

“Quick, quick!” She leaned down, snatched the hissing cat by the collar and thrust him through the opening. In the blink of an eye, he was gone. She fell rather than jumped back and bundled up her shirt again. “Here, Marie, hold this. Pretend it’s your cat.”

The light flicked back on and Tarpan slammed the door open. He had a plasma arc in his hand this time. His eyes narrowed as he took in the scene, dwelling on the broken glass under the window. Marie crouched in the corner with her back to him and Flora stood in front, shielding her as best she could.

“That’s going to do you no good.” He stepped forwards and slapped Flora with all the force of his free arm. Hot blood blossomed into her mouth as the pain shot through her head. Marie screamed as Flora crumpled to the ground. Tarpan stood over them both. He pressed the plasma arc to Flora's head.

“No one knows where we are. You’re wasting your time. We’ll be long gone before your precious count finds any trace of you. You’ve made your one mistake. There won’t be any more.” His boot cannoned into her stomach and ribs. “Understand?”

Flora retched. Sour bile mingled with the blood in her mouth as she struggled to suck in a breath.

“I thought you would.” Tarpan turned on his heel and left them. This time, the light stayed on. Marie would be able to see everything he had done to her. Neither of them moved straight away. Flora knew she should comfort Marie, but if she made the attempt now she really would vomit. All she could do was struggle for breath and try not to moan. At last the little girl reached out to brush the blood-matted hair away from her face. She sounded so fierce when she spoke.

“Miss Flora, my Da is going to make him really, really sorry he did that. He’s going to…to grind his bones. That’s what he’ll do.” Marie helped her to sit against the wall and used the shirt to wipe her face. “He’s cut your mouth. Wait until I tell Papi Simon, too. He’ll be so mad.”

Flora felt her teeth. She should be thankful Tarpan had used the flat of his hand and not his fist. All of her teeth ached on the right side of her jaw, but they were still intact and she didn’t think the bone was broken. She spat out more blood, pressed the wad of cotton shirt against the cut and pulled Marie to huddle in the crook of her other arm. She spoke as best she could, in a vicious whisper.

“Don’t you worry, Marie. Tarpan _is_ going to be really sorry, but I’m not going to wait for your Da, _or_ your Papi Simon. I can see what I’m doing now. I can grind bones with the best of them. You see if I don’t. He won’t know what’s hit him.”

 

“Prince Xav!” Fox heard the startled exclamation from Price, quickly muffled. Hopefully they were too far back from the warehouse for him to have given the game away, unless Tarpan had sound pick-ups strategically placed. Count Voralys certainly heard him as well though, and they both sprinted over to Price’s location a block away. The count had wings on his feet and beat him there by a good margin. Walton arrived at the same time from the opposite direction.

“Xav!” Price had fallen over backwards with the cat clutched to his chest. It was fortunate he had combat half-armour on over his uniform. It just managed to stand up to the frantic clawing as Xav yowled into his face.

“Good boy!” Price scrambled to his feet and held Xav up to look into his eyes as the cat continued to talk to him. “I know, I know, buddy. Lady Marie needs our help.” He knelt down again and reached for his water bottle, pouring some into his cupped hand. Prince Xav made short work of his drink and Price poured more.

Word swiftly passed around about the cat’s escape. Armsman Sarmiento jogged up to them moments later. “I’ve still got Lady Marie’s wrist com, sir. You don’t suppose…”

The count snatched it from him. “What do you think, Price? Can we make Prince Xav understand?”

The young armsman shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know, sir, he’s only a cat, but we can try, surely.”

Marie’s wrist was much the same size as Xav’s neck. They let him smell the band for a moment or two, then Fox secured the com to the cat’s collar with a twist of wire to make sure he didn’t lose it. Would he go back though? Prince Xav had never done what they wanted before. Only Marie seemed to be able to control him. They waited in silence as Price worked his way up to the corner nearest the warehouse and cautiously peeked round, pulling back quickly once he’d checked the scene. Fox and the others watched as he held the cat up to his face to whisper at it, then sent him on his way round the corner. They all held their breaths for an agonising few moments, until Price peeked again and pumped the air in triumph. _Yes!_

Price doubled back to them. “He went straight to the window and disappeared. He must be inside again. As long as they notice.” He tried a ping on his own wristcom, which had the direct channel to his young charge. He waited a few seconds and tried again.

“Price? Is that you? Did you send Prince Xav back?” Marie sounded breathless with joy and terrified both.

The count nearly ripped Price’s arm off. He just had enough control to keep his voice low. “Marie, it’s your Da. We’re all here, Price, Papi Simon and everyone. We’re going to get you out very soon.”

“Da!” They could all hear Marie sob into her wrist com. “You have to come and get me, Da, right now! There’s a bad man here. He’s hurt Miss Flora.”

_Flora!_ Fox felt a stab to his guts at her words. Walton tensed beside him, then gripped his shoulder in sympathy as they strained to listen.

“Can she talk, Marie? Give her the wrist com if she can.”

There was a pause, and then they heard Flora’s voice. “Count Voralys? Thank god. Marie is unharmed, just terrified, of course. We’re locked in a basement storeroom, about four metres square with a metal door bolted from the outside. Tarpan’s storing his purple popper in here. He’s completely mad. Be careful. He’s armed with at least a plasma arc, and stunners of course.”

Marie joined in again. “You have to grind his bones, Da. He hit Miss Flora and then he kicked her really hard, because she broke the window.”

“We will, honey, we certainly will. You just hang on. We’ll get you out. I love you, Marie.” His voice broke on a strangled sob and he had to turn away. Fox took a turn at the wrist com.

“Lady Marie? It’s Fox here. Tell Miss Flora we’re coming, just hang on.”

“Markie!” Marie sobbed again, then Flora’s voice took over. She sounded breathless. “I knew you’d come, Marcus. Don’t worry. We’ll be ready. I won’t let anything happen to Marie.”

“How badly are you hurt?”

“Maybe a cracked rib and my face is rearranged a bit. I’ll live. Just get us out, please.”

“Simon Vorillyan is on it. We’re going to try negotiation first. If not we’ll be coming through the walls if we have to. It won’t be too long, love.”

“We can manage now.” Her voice dropped a little. “Love you too, Marcus.”

 

Vorillyan assembled his squad. There were over twenty of them altogether; ten armsmen, the count, Philip Nicolaides, Vormayer and his two men, Major Vorjenner from the gym, and at the last minute Major Karasavas, Vorberg and their three subordinates panted up. They’d run from the shuttleport. Karasavas had the good sense to not try to take over.

“Orders, sir?” He asked.

“I want a line of sight to every door and window. Two for the roof. When we start talking you’ll take your squad to the street at the back of the storeroom. The warehouse is built into a slope, so they’re below ground level at the back. Let Flora and Lady Marie know you’re there, but keep them out of your aim for the door. Anyone comes through it without a code you get them _first_ , do you understand? Wear your respirators. We don’t know what other booby traps he’s got, but we do know about the gas. Walton, Fox, Price, Vorberg and I will be going in to bring them out. No one takes any chances.”

Count Voralys interrupted. “I’m going with you.”

“Ivan—“ Simon Vorillyan tried to object. The count cut him off.

“I _am_ going with you.” The two of them exchanged a long, cool look.

Simon nodded agreement at last. “Fox and Walton first. Fox, your priority is Marie. Grab her and get her out without fail. Walton, Miss Dunbar. Price, try for Prince Xav if there’s time. He’ll come for you. If not, you’re Walton’s number two. Ivan, you follow Fox. Vorberg and I will deal with any opposition. Major Vorjenner, you’ll blow the door. Wait outside, and if anyone tries to follow the snatch squad out you deal with them. Got it, everyone? The code is…” he paused. “The code is Xav three.”

It took less than five minutes to assign everyone to their places, check weapons, and run through the drills. Count Voralys took charge of Price’s wrist com and relayed the plan to Flora as quietly and as reassuringly as he could.

“Keep Marie and yourself behind any cover you can find, Flora. Walton will take you out, and Fox and I will look after Marie. Leave it all to us. You’ll be quite safe.”

Fox and Walton checked each other’s equipment. Fox could understand why Simon Vorillyan had assigned him to Marie and not Flora. “Shit, I don’t have to like it, though,” he muttered under his breath. He had every faith in Walton. He was the most experienced combat soldier they had in the squad. He wouldn’t do anything stupid. He’d get Flora out, and not have emotion clouding his judgement. _All he had to do was keep telling himself that…_

The snipers were ready. Karasavas and his men were lined up around the corner, ready to dash for the window. Fox and Walton had their concussion grenades on hand to storm the main room. Walton held up one finger, and pointed to himself. Two fingers, and he pointed to Fox. Just as Simon Vorillyan moved his hand to turn on the floodlights and the loudspeakers to talk to Tarpan, a voice came over the radio.

“Vormayer here, sir. There’s a vehicle approaching, at speed. It’s a lightflyer.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No battle plan ever survives contact with the enemy.

 

Flora Dunbar, listening in on the wrist com, heard Vormayer’s report seconds before the rattle of the bolt being drawn back again. _There wouldn’t be time to get them out._ “Quick, Marie. Back here!” With her heart in her throat she pushed Marie behind the barricade of packing boxes they’d built just behind the door. It was only an illusion of safety, she well knew. With the iron bar from the retort stand in one hand, she grabbed one of the bottles of purple popper by the neck and smashed the end off it. The liquid sprayed everywhere as the sickly smell filled the room. It was volatile, this stuff. She leapt to the opposite side of the door, gasping as the pain in her ribs hit her hard as she held the bar high over her head.

The door flew back just as an enormous concussion from outside rattled the building. There was an incoherent roar of rage from Tarpan as he stormed into the room. With all her might Flora slashed the bar downwards across his wrist and the plasma arc he carried, following the momentum down and stabbing the broken bottle as hard as she could into the side of his knee joint. His scream of rage turned to one of pain as he crashed down and rolled on the ground. More flat explosions sounded from outside.

Tarpan wasn’t done. He sprang back to his feet, pure murder shining in his eyes as he faced her, right wrist broken and hand dangling with the plasma arc hanging from a finger. His other hand flashed out and grabbed Flora by the throat.

There was a screech and a howl as a small grey form launched itself straight for him. Prince Xav’s claws ripped Tarpan’s eyes, raking across his face from top to bottom. Off balance, Tarpan crashed back into the shelves, taking Flora with him. The broken bottles spilled everywhere, adding shards of jagged glass to the mayhem. In an adrenalin-induced fury of her own she was able to break his hold and twist away across the slippery floor while Prince Xav distracted him. This was her chance!

“Marie! Now! Get out!”

Prince Xav howled again and fell to the floor. He didn’t move. Marie ran for her life, only to shriek in pure terror as she was snatched up into the air by a tall figure dressed head to foot in combat armour. Before Flora could even blink they were gone.

Tarpan scrabbled blindly for his plasma arc. Flora stamped on his left hand just as he reached it, grinding her foot into broken glass as she snatched up Prince Xav and dived for the door. He screamed in agony but his hold on the weapon didn’t slacken. As a second figure loomed up in the doorway Tarpan’s finger closed on the trigger.

A sizzling bolt shot across the floor, just missing Flora’s stockinged feet. There was a sudden whoomph and a flare of blue flame as the liquid drug ignited. The very air itself seemed to explode around her as Flora fell forward. She was covered with the purple popper. Her hair, streaming down behind her, burst into flames. All she could hear was agonised screaming.

Some of it was her own.

 

 _No battle plan ever survives contact with the enemy._ They’d all heard it before. Vormayer’s voice rose in agitation. “There’s movement inside the building. Infra-red shows someone outside the storeroom.”

Simon Vorillyan didn’t wait to talk. “ _Xav three._ Xav three. Go! Go now.”

Vorjenner sprinted in, slammed the explosive charge against the lock and ducked flat against the wall to one side to activate the detonator. Seconds after the doors blew Fox and Walton hurled in their concussion grenades, ducked briefly as the flash and noise did their work, then stormed in. Walton was the ex-Ranger; Fox knew his own limitations and allowed his colleague the space to be first through the door although he was hot on his heels. Walton, crouching low, sprayed the room with disruptor fire as he dived into a roll, heading for the far door. Vorberg and Vorillyan burst in behind Price and the count, weapons blazing, but Fox didn’t stop to look. They were in, and there was very little opposition. He vaulted over Walton and headed for the storeroom. He paused for only a second to duck low and glance round the corner into a short corridor. He could see feet thrashing on the floor and hear a woman’s voice shrill with urgency. He bolted forwards just as Marie rushed out. She screamed in terror as he grabbed her and turned to run.

“Marie! It’s me. It’s Markie. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, honey.” She either couldn’t hear or was too terrified to listen as she continued to scream. He pushed back past Walton and Price, turned his body to shield Marie from danger and took off. The sizzling zap of a plasma arc beam behind him added to the cacophony of noise.

At the corner Count Voralys held out his arms. Fox thrust the little girl towards him. “Take her! Go, go, go!” He only waited to watch him clear the door before whirling back around. He could hear Flora, and she was screaming.

 _Flora!_ Her head was surrounded by flames. Her feet were bleeding and the floor around her was on fire. He watched as Walton hauled her in to himself to get her feet off the floor, smothering the flames behind her as he twisted her into a roll away from the spill zone. Price fell on top of her as well, swatting at the fire.

In the storeroom doorway a human torch loomed up suddenly, blazing from head to foot. His strength of will was something terrible to see as he staggered forwards.

“Oh, no you fucking don’t!” Fox’s boot crunched into the man’s chest, sending him crashing backwards into the inferno in the storeroom. Fox slammed the door and shot the bolt. He sucked in a sobbing breath and screamed into his com set. “Medic! We need a medic now!”

 

Devaux and Sarmiento were the rated medics. Neither of them had seen anything like this, Fox was very sure. Walton had to force him away from Flora’s side as the other two worked on her out on the roadway where Walton had carried her.

“Come away. Come away, Marcus.” He neatly dodged a blow as Fox swung a fist at him. “I know you want to stay. You’re not going to be any use here. She’ll need you later, man.” Fox vaguely saw him indicate for help. It was Vorberg who ran over to take hold of Fox’s other arm and help drag him off. They sat him down on the doorstep. He watched in stunned disbelief, sick to his bones, as the chaos continued to erupt around them.

A lightflyer lay in a crumpled heap fifty metres away. From the rubble of tiles scattered along the road, it had been taken down from, or missed its landing on the roof somehow. Men in ImpSec greens had the pilot under restraint. Simon Vorillyan marched past him, a stunned and bleeding prisoner shoved along in front of him, held in a fearsome double armlock. He recognised the ravaged face of Darian. They’d got one out alive, at least. In another time and place Fox would have been fiercely exultant. Just now he could barely breathe for the terror that gripped him.

Price flopped down beside him suddenly. He’d stripped off his helmet and broad tears ran down his smoke-stained face as he cradled the limp body of Prince Xav in his arms.

Walton leaned over to take him away. “Aww, shit. No!” He laid the cat on its right side on the ground and stripped off his gloves to feel for a femoral pulse before checking his mouth. Prince Xav would have taken his fingers off normally, but now there was no response. “Tongue’s blue,” he muttered to no-one in particular, before closing the mouth firmly into his hand with the tongue well forward. He blew gently through the cat’s nostrils until his chest rose.

“Come on, Price, help me out here,” Walton ordered. Price blinked, rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes and crouched over. “Two fingers. Press quickly and gently. You can do it. On my count. One, two, three, four. Like that, see.” Walton turned back to Prince Xav and puffed air into him again. “Come on, fish breath. Breathe!”

There was nothing. Walton tried again and again until suddenly Price gasped. “His tail! His tail twitched.”

Walton felt for the pulse. “It surely did. Get over to that flyer wreck. See if there’s a spare oxygen cylinder and then jump on the com and find a vet. The Guard cruiser should still be in the garage. You can use that. Take Vorberg with you.”

Galvanised into action Price sprinted for the flyer and ripped out the pilot’s emergency kit. Within seconds he was back. While Walton administered the oxygen he found a foil blanket and carefully wrapped it round the still-unconscious animal. Vorberg took off back into the building to head for the garage.

“Fox?” Sarmiento yelled over to him. “We’ve got an Evac flyer coming in. Are you going to the hospital?”

All thought of Prince Xav flew out of his brain. The flyer was guided to a pin point landing, squeezed between the warehouse and the ImpSec ground car Vormayer had brought up. A doctor jumped out to assess Flora as the pilot kept the anti-grav units whining so precisely it didn’t move an inch. She was loaded onto the float pallet, mercifully unconscious now, pumped full of pain med and with the saline line the medics had used swapped over for plasma. Count Voralys climbed in beside them, Marie clutched firmly in his arms. _Oh, yes. Marie._ Fox had forgotten. Where had they been all this time? In the ground car? He'd stripped off his half-armour and held her with her head pressed closely into his shoulder and neck. This was no sight for an already-traumatised little girl.

Fox had no idea what he’d done with _his_ helmet. His fingers fumbled as he tried to buckle in. Sarmiento had to assist him and then the count before he leaped in himself to help monitor the patient. He banged on the door and the flyer took off into the air.

“Raine and m’mother are meeting us at the hospital, Fox,” the count said. “She’s bringing Steggie. You're relieved. stay with Flora. Anything she needs… Absolutely anything.” His voice broke.

Fox ran his fingers through his hair in impotent despair. “What’s she’s going to need is Dr Wrachmann, sir. I don’t think you can promise her that.”

“Hell.” Count Voralys sat back, silenced. His shoulders shook as he shed tears into Marie’s hair. He had to force himself to speak again. “I told her she'd be quite safe. I _owe_ her…I’ll speak to Gregor first chance I get. I promise.” 

There were no more words between them for the rest of the flight.

They were waiting for them at the hospital; Wally with his trauma team, Fiona with her death stare as she turned away from the sight of her sister. She allowed herself ten seconds of emotion as she fronted up to Fox and the count.

“You bastards. You absolute bastards!” The mask slipped back into place as she hurried with the others to the emergency bay. Lady Alys and the Countess descended on them as the paediatric specialist rushed Marie through to a separate section. Fox was left to stand, useless and alone. Behind him Sarmiento made short work of the press reporters who also tried to surge forwards, yelling questions and pointing holo cameras.

“No statements. No statements here tonight. Apply to the District House. Move along. Nothing to see here now.” He actually drew his stunner before they took the hint. “Move along, I said.” Sarmiento called to him. “You go in, Fox, I’ll stay here until we can find some security to take control. Give her our best love and thanks.”

Fox followed the sound of the monitors and the controlled, clipped voices. He propped his arm on the doorframe and laid his head on his sleeve while he watched. His vision blurred. _Flora. His Flora…_

Fiona caught sight of him as she swapped out an IV. “Haven’t you done enough for one day? She doesn’t know you’re here,” she snarled.

Wally looked up from his work. His eyebrows snapped together in disapproval. “There’s more than one casualty here, Medtech.” He reached over to press a button and in a few moments another triage medtech hurried to answer. “Take care of the armsman, please. Synergine, I think, hot shower and some fluids. He can wait back over there once you’re done. —And that’s an order, Fox. No arguments. Do as you’re told. I’m too busy here for insubordination.”

Wally turned away. Urged by the medtech Fox allowed himself to be led off, stripped of his weapons and clothing and bundled into a hot shower. A dose of synergine and a double dose of hot tea later, dressed in clean scrubs but allowed to keep his own boots at least, the medtech plunked him down in a chair in the corner of the cubicle. There was much less activity now. Flora seemed to be in some sort of stasis, face down with her burns swathed in thick layers of medical gel. All Fox could see was the pink gleam of her hairless scalp. Wally came over to talk to him in a low voice.

“She’s stable, Fox, and out of immediate danger. Her lungs are clear so she didn't breathe in any of the flames or boiling vapour, and her feet are mostly superficial burns with some deep lacerations from glass fragments. The back of her neck, scalp and ears are bad, and her hands; I won’t say otherwise. Everything is treatable, though. We have a superb advantage most burns casualties don’t have. Fiona has volunteered to be a tissue donor so we can make a head start on the grafts straight away. We’ll be moving her to the burns unit shortly. There’s much less chance of infection there. She’s not going to know anything for at least three days, probably a week. Say goodbye now and go and get some rest. There’s nothing more you can do, son. We’ll look after her now.”

Sarmiento came back for him and bundled him and all of his kit into the back of the count’s ground car. The synergine had taken effect at last and the fog started to clear. Fox pulled himself together. Anything was better than the desperate terror dragging him down. Count Voralys might have relieved him from duty, but he was still Armsman Commander. “Report, Sarmiento. What do you know?”

The armsman cleared the hospital forecourt before he replied, edging past the security cordon and the milling crowds still not willing to go home. “Devaux is back on night duty at the house. The fire’s out; it was confined to the storeroom and burned out almost as quickly as it started, apparently. Karasavas got an extinguisher in through the window but it wasn't really needed. There’s one casualty reported there. We have Darian alive and also, Simon Vorillyan _with_ the help of Major Karasavas, is interrogating Lord Kurt Voranson down at the ImpSec office. There may or may not be any fast-penta left over for Darian. I don’t think that’s going to bother them. Voranson was the pilot of the flyer that came in. Apart from Tarpan and Darian the rest of the heavies were his armsmen. The three that were left offered no resistance once they saw the Imperial uniforms. They wanted no hand in treason.”

“Just following orders, eh?” Fox felt sick. What would he do in a similar situation? “What the hell was Voranson doing mixed up in this?”

Sarmiento shrugged as he pulled into the gates of the residence past yet more crowds. “I’m sure Vorillyan will find out. Whether he lets us in on the secret is another matter altogether, isn’t it?”

Ma Belka must have been frantic with worry. She'd worked off her tension with mounds of sandwiches piled up for them all, soup in stay-hot flasks and water boiling for tea. Sarmiento took her to one side and passed on the news. After one strangled sob she set to work, serving all of them, and doing anything she could to help. She pressed a plate of food and a mug of soup into Fox's hands and found him a stool from the kitchen to sit on. The last thing he wanted to do was eat.

In pairs, or the odd lone straggler, the armsmen reported back from the clean-up duty. Among the last were Price and Vorberg. Price let a brief smile light his face as he came in through the door. “That cat’s used up at least three of his lives, but he’s going to live. He has smoke inhalation, a fractured skull and some superficial burns but he came round at last. He’s in intensive care and complaining about it. Never mind Prince Xav, though, the vet just about had kittens herself when ImpSec came knocking. You should have seen her face. She'll see him right. We can bring him home in three days.”

Fox had changed into his spare uniform. Duty. it was all he could fall back on. “Anyone seen Walton? He’s still not back.”

Harper knew what was going on. “Count's bodyguard at the hospital. I’m relieving him at 2600 and Driscoll will take over from me for the morning watch if needed. Kosa is duty driver, Sarmiento will relieve Devaux. Price is off duty. He’s done enough for one day. He’ll double up as second duty driver tomorrow. Driscoll can stand down for a few hours, too. I’m sure we’ll all be running around again come dawn.”

Everything was under control. Major Vorjenner had already slipped quietly away with a packet of sandwiches and a flask of soup pressed on him by Ma Belka. He’d somehow found the time to return his weapons and kit to the armoury spanking clean. Vorberg, too, took his leave to head back to Impsec, burdened with food for the others. Philip Nicolaides went home to his wife and Price headed for the armsmen’s quarters and his bed. Reaction had begun to set in there. He’d killed a man today, after all, and helped kill another.

Fox had a quiet word to him as he shook his hand. “Well done, Armsman. No one could have done better job than you today. Take a sleep timer. There’s plenty of time for the post mortems tomorrow, not tonight.”

Price could only nod. There’d be a few tears there before the timer took hold, no doubt. They’d all had to live through similar, and he could hold his head up proudly.

As the house settled down to what quiet it could manage, only Fox was left with nothing to do. Take his own advice? _Not likely_.

Princess padded her way across the hall and rubbed against his legs, demanding attention. Her querulous mewing forced his gaze down and he bent to scoop her up. She allowed him to hug her close.

“We miss them, don’t we?” Fox took her into the ready room with him and settled her into his lap. There were no reports yet from the hospital, or from Simon Vorillyan and Karasavas. He checked all the monitors and pulled up the house logs. He still had the day’s reports to read. 

_The Armsmen’s cadre didn’t run itself._

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermaths...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who would like a two chapter weekend again?

 

Armsman Kosa was called out twice before dawn, once to bring the Countess and Lady Alys home and the second time for Simon Vorillyan. Fox had the distinct impression that if he touched Vorillyan he’d receive a static shock. The man _buzzed_ with pent-up energy. _Or was that rage?_ He was seething with agitation.

“Has Lady Alys arrived home again, Fox?” He asked.

“Yes, sir, with the countess, about two hours ago.”

Vorillyan looked undecided for a moment as he paced round the hall. “Ah. I won’t disturb her, then. I need to— Will _you_ take a drink with me, Armsman?” He waved a hand in the direction of the library.

Fox bowed slightly. “That sounds like a damned good idea, sir.”

Whenever Fox had served the family Simon Vorillyan was always sparing with his drinks. In this early morning hour the old ImpSec chief did the honours. The glass he handed to Fox almost brimmed over and his own drink disappeared in one gulp before he poured as much again. The lights were dim in the library and it was hard to see his expression. He was breathing quickly, as if he’d been running.

“What news of Flora? They let me know Marie has been sedated for the night. Ivan is staying with her, but that’s all I heard.”

Fox took a swallow. The fiery spirit burned his throat. It wasn’t maple mead, but close. Terran whisky, by the taste of it. “She’s not in a good way, sir. The burns are bad. She’s in an induced coma for at least three days and she’ll need grafts. Fiona has volunteered as a donor, of course, to save time. Dr Wally is confident she’ll recover, _eventually_.”

Vorillyan sighed briefly, swore under his breath and finally sat down. He laid his head on the back of his armchair and closed his eyes. Tonight, he looked like an old man. “Thank goodness for small mercies. I’m so very, very sorry, Fox. We all failed her, and she kept our darling safe for us.”

Fox stared into his glass. He swirled the honey-brown liquid around and sipped again. He desperately tried to avoid bursting into sobs. “I don’t know what else we could have _done_ , sir. Just another five seconds...I should have grabbed them both. I could have. Walton was so close! I’d give my right arm, if I could...When I think of Marie, in that man’s hands, I—” His throat closed. He couldn’t finish what he wanted to say. Vorillyan knew, anyway. He knew all of it, and more, as he nodded. “It’s all my fault.”

“No, it isn’t.” Simon Vorillyan downed his drink, sprang up and refilled it. He waved the whisky in Fox’s direction, but didn’t insist. This time he took the bottle back to his chair with him, ready to hand. “Thankfully I’ve finally been able to forget some of the horrors I participated in over the years, but where children are involved...” Vorillyan actually wiped his eyes. “Those _children_ , Fox, when Tarpan and Vorclarence tested their devil’s plague. Have you seen the vid? Give all the thanks you can if you haven’t.” He took another swallow. “We kept Gregor safe, somehow, and Miles and Ivan. Well, not Miles, he was a victim before he was even born. We kept him _alive_ , though. Miles mostly needed protection from himself, when he was Marie’s age. And now we have this new generation. Marie is only the first, with the Crown Prince and the Vorkosigan twins well on the way, and Ivan and Raine due to start any time. They’ll be someone else’s security nightmare, not mine.”

He was silent for so long Fox thought he must have gone to sleep, but he stirred at last and drained his glass. Fox didn’t hold out much hope, but he asked anyway. “Will you tell me what Darian’s involvement was, sir?”

There was another long pause, but he was astonished to get an answer. “God, where to start? Bad blood there, going right back to the Pretender’s War. Darian’s father was Vidal’s half-brother, an acknowledged bastard. He was killed and his mother brought the boy here to live in a different District, but he’s never forgotten the old grudge. The count involved him up to the neck in his plans. He must have been a very deep mole in the Municipal Guard. Even Lord Vorclarence didn’t know about him, or about that safe house. The count played his cards as close as that. ImpSec has a double picket on the place overnight. Karasavas and Vorberg won’t be getting to rest any time soon. You won’t believe what’s stashed there, and we only did a preliminary search. There’s another vial of bio-weapon, Fox. It’s the missing third one we’ve been searching for. Ivan doesn’t even know about it yet.” 

_Marie, and bioweapons._ Nightmare didn’t begin to describe it. “So Tarpan was the one responsible, and not just for the purple popper, then? It’s not just a co- incidence?”

Vorillyan opened one eye to stare at him. “This is Barrayaran politics we’re talking about. You think for one minute it’s a coincidence?”

Fox shrugged. “Not once you put it that way, no, sir.” Vicious satisfaction filled him. Flora had put an end to Luca Tarpan, but at what cost? He was _glad_ he’d locked him in with his own vile brew. It was only a shame it wasn’t a slower end. They were silent together for a few minutes, but Vorillyan wasn’t finished.

“He tried to murder Lady Vorkosigan before he came to ground here. Neuro-toxin.” 

“I...I didn’t know that.”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

Vorillyan had lost him. “I’m sorry, sir?”

“There are five villains in this whole sorry story, all with their own axes to grind, double-crossing each other, no one person knowing who all the other players were. House Bharaputra is at the bottom of it all—no, that’s not right, either. Vasa Luigi greased the wheels, for sure. He’s desperate for revenge against Miles, Mark and Gregor. It was Vorclarence who spotted Serg’s bastard and sent him to the Whole where he became the so-called Vorresiak. Tarpan, Louis Vorbataille and Kurt Voranson made up the unholy quintet.”

Fox couldn’t keep up. “Including Vorresiak then, that’s actually six of them. You think you’ve got them all now?”

“Probably, apart from the rest of the Voransons, _if_ they condoned what was going on. Marcel Vorevreaux was only a bit player, like Theo Vormercier. Vormercier will hang himself one of these days. Gregor will make sure of that. All the rest of them were in it up to their stinking eyeballs.”

Fox rubbed the heel of his hand into his eyes. “There hasn’t been a word about Kurt Voranson before this though, has there? Not that I know all the ins and outs. Where did he spring from?”

“Apart from being Louis Vorbataille’s lover, you mean, and Tarpan’s? Tarpan is the link between them all. Kurt’s mother was Myldris Vordrozda before her marriage to Voranson.”

 _Vordrozda?_ “Oh, I didn’t know that. Bad blood with the Vorkosigans, then.”

“Big time. What’s thirty years for a blood feud? Kurt sniffed out an opportunity for revenge at last. I would have sworn the count was loyal to the Emperor, though, no matter how much the family hates Aral Vorkosigan. That will be for Guy Allegre to find out, once this little side show of a war with Cetaganda is resolved.”

This was all going to take hours of thinking about. Fox was too tired, too distracted and too heart sick to do more than probe the edges of the tangle. What he needed was one of the count’s flow charts. He finished his drink instead. He wasn’t the man for flow charts. He’d just follow orders and do his duty.

There was a muffled noise as something hit the carpet. The glass had slipped from Vorillyan’s fingers. He’d fallen asleep at last but there probably wasn’t any refuge for him there, either. Fox found a light rug to place over him before he picked up the glass. He knew it had been a very rare privilege to see the man like this. Tomorrow, no, _today_ , the spymaster would be back.

They all turned out to bring Lady Marie home. The squad was never going to fit in the ground car so most of the armsmen doubled it in a grim file, their plasma arc rifles at the port, across the square and over to the hospital. Walton, Price and Fox squeezed into the front of the car while Countess Voralys, Aceline Waleska, Lady Alys and Simon Vorillyan occupied the passenger compartment. Price nestled the cat carrier on his knee so Princess could see what was going on. They were going to stop off afterwards to leave her with Prince Xav to keep him company and perhaps, just perhaps, shut him up. The morning report from the vet had been all but drowned out by his vociferous complaints. It had been music to their ears to hear the rascal misbehaving again, but he wasn’t fit to be moved until his lungs stabilised, not that anyone had told _him_ that.

The carrier formed a barricade between Fox and Walton. Fox couldn’t see him, and Walton hadn’t said a word, hadn’t even looked him in the eye since they’d parted the night before. Something was wrong there. When Fox popped the canopy at the hospital main entrance Walton was first out to lend a hand to Madame Waleska. He didn’t make the mistake of offering Simon Vorillyan his arm, instead retrieving the small valet case they’d brought for the count and bringing up the rear of the little party. The other armsmen had lined the route to Lady Marie’s room. Each came to attention as they passed. Price continued with the family to take Princess into the room, leaving Walton and Fox to stand guard either side of the door. They both stared straight ahead as they stood at parade rest.

Now was Fox’s chance, with no one else within earshot. The yowling from inside the room would be enough to drown out any conversation.“Talk to me, Walton. What’s wrong?”

“ _What’s wrong?_ ” He sounded totally incredulous. “How can you bear to stand within ten metres of me? I let you all down. I let Flora down. She was _my_ responsibility.”

“You’re blaming yourself for what happened? _I_ was there before the fire started. I should have grabbed her too. It was _my_ fault.”

Walton finally looked at him. Fox had never seen a man look so haggard. Devastation didn’t begin to describe the blank despair in his eyes. “I screwed up.”

“No, you didn’t. You saved her life. You saved Prince Xav’s life. It was the worst of bad luck. None of us knew that damned drug would go up like that.”

Walton blinked slowly before he turned back to face his front. “You try telling Fiona that. I went to see her last night, after Harper relived me. I’ll never forget the way she looked at me. She said...she said—” He broke off, his emotions ruthlessly clamped down. “We were so close, you and me. I guess happiness was just one wish too far for a pair of broken down old vets like us.”

“Flora’s going to get better. Wally said so. We’ll get Wrachmann back down here and he’ll fix her up. You’ll see.”

“And then what? The first jump ship out of here, that’s what. They won’t stop to look behind them. Would you, once you saw Barrayar the way they’ve seen it?”

Fox swallowed. He hadn’t thought past getting Flora better. “I’m not going to give up on her until she looks me in the eyes and tells me goodbye, and even then I won’t give up.”

The door opened and Price poked his head out. “Lady Marie wants you two. I’ll stay here.”

They hadn’t finished talking, but it would have to be postponed. “We just take one day at a time, Walton. Our first job is to get Lady Marie home.”

“Markie!” Marie held out her arms for him. Her eyes looked huge in her tired face, but she had her favourite pink dress on, with Steggie in her lap and Princess draped around her shoulders. There was no sign of the count. He must be in the bathroom cubicle cleaning himself up. Harper had told them he hadn’t moved from the chair all night. “Da says it was _you_ who picked me up. I thought you were a monster.”

“That’s right.” Fox hunkered down in front of her chair. “No monsters.” _Not past the one she’d seen, at least. “_ "I told you we were coming.”

She dislodged Princess as she slid her arms round his neck and pulled him close. “I’m sorry, Markie. I’m so sorry. It was all my fault. I ran away from Price.”

Marie was blaming herself? “No! No honey. None of this is your fault. It was Tarpan’s fault, and Miss Flora ground his bones for it. He’s never going to hurt anyone ever again.”

“She said she would, and she did. She hit him with the big pole, really hard. That’ll teach him to kick her.”

Walton hadn’t said a word, but Marie noticed him at last. “Da says you saved Prince Xav, Walton, when he hurt his head.”

He shrugged. “Price saved him first, then we got him breathing again, and then Price and Lieutenant Vorberg took him to him to the vet. We all helped.”

“He’s a hero. He got that man off Miss Flora, but I didn’t see any more.”

Lady Alys made a determined effort to change the tone of the conversation. No one wanted Marie dwelling on what had happened. “I think it’s time to be going. Stefa and Piotr are waiting to see you, and we’re going to visit Prince Xav on the way, don’t forget, Marie.”

“Yes, Mamie, but I have to say goodbye to Miss Flora first. She can’t still be asleep.”

There was a stricken silence as they all looked at each other before Lady Alys answered. “She’s very tired darling. We shouldn’t disturb her. Your Da wants to leave very soon, Marie, and here he is now.

Every eye in the room turned to look at the count as he emerged from the bathroom. His face was lined with strain. “What? What’s happened now? What have I missed?”

Marie was first to speak. Her words rushed out. “Da, I _have_ to say goodbye to Miss Flora before I go. It would be really rude not to. You know Mamie says you always have to say thank you.”

His eyes widened for a second before he smiled at her. “We can’t do that, sweetheart. Remember I told you she cut her feet? She has to stay in bed until they’re all better.”

That had been a bit of quick thinking, and not a word of a lie. Fox had to give it to the count for ingenuity.

Her lower lip turned out into a decided pout. “I want to see Miss Flora!”

“Don’t argue, please, Marie. You can’t see her. She’s in isolation so she doesn’t catch germs off us.”

Steggie flew across the room to land in the corner. “I will! I will see Miss Flora!” Marie’s whole face changed to a look of horror all of a sudden. “She’d better not be dead, like my Ma. She is, isn’t she? There was all that screaming and shooting and she never came to see me!”

The count shook his head, quick to deny her worst nightmares. “She’s not dead. We wouldn’t lie to you. She’s _not_ dead, Marie.”

“She is, she is, she is! She’s dead and can’t come back!”

Her voice had grown very shrill. Any second now there’d be full on hysterics. She was obviously very volatile, still, and who could blame her? Fox thought quickly. “Why don’t I go and ask your Grandda Wally, Lady Marie? He’s looking after her right now.”

The count looked at him blankly. “What? You can’t do that, Fox.”

“Let me just check, sir. We might just be able to look at her through the observation window. Maybe Lady Marie would like to draw a picture for her while she’s waiting.”

The penny dropped. If he hadn’t been so tired the count might have realised what Fox planned more quickly. "Very well. Go and ask, please."

He jogged off down the corridor to the burns unit, fingers mentally crossed. Fiona wouldn’t mind, surely?

He found her in the office. Her head was in her hands as she stared down at the desk. She looked up as he came in, her eyes blank. She couldn’t have had any sleep. Fiona looked…she looked exactly like half of her was missing. 

“You’re wasting your time. She can’t talk to you.”

“No, no, it’s not that. We need your help, Fiona.”

She sucked in a deep breath. “I wouldn’t help you shoot yourself.”

Fox winced. “Please, it’s not about me. It’s Marie. She wants to see Flora. We’ve told her she’s asleep. We thought you might—”

Fiona launched herself up from the desk to stand in front of him, barely inches away. She screamed at him. “I don’t care! Do you hear me? You can all rot in hell, the whole damn lot of you.” She slammed her fists into his chest. “I hate you! I hate all of you!”

Fox let her hit him again, and again, barely swaying with each blow. God knew he deserved it. He couldn’t stand the look in her eyes, though. As the tears started to fall he reached out to hold her. She resisted for just a moment and then her whole weight slumped forwards as she collapsed into his arms. He shed a few tears of his own as he tried to comfort her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Fiona. Please forgive us.”

The storm was fierce. Fox could do nothing more than rock her gently, smoothing her hair as she clung to him and sobbed. _He should have sent Walton_.

The thought was no sooner in his head than the man himself appeared with Dr Waleska at his shoulder. “The count sent me—” He broke off in shock, all expression leaving his face.

“Here’s Adrian, honey.” Fox handed her over like a hot potato. He didn’t want Walton getting any funny ideas. Fiona wasn’t done crying by a long shot. If anything, her distress increased as she wailed into his chest and struck him feebly with the side of one clenched fist. She was so nearly exhausted she could hardly raise the strength to kill a fly.

Wally sighed. “I thought this would happen sooner or later. We’ll put her to bed. Can you bring her this way please, Walton?”

Walton scooped her up as if she was a featherweight and carried her with infinite tenderness to one of the beds on the main ward, away from the isolation rooms and ICU. Fox could hear him whispering quietly to her, although he couldn’t make out the words. It was no business of his what Walton found to say to her, anyway.

The doctor pulled back the covers. “Tunic and boots off should be enough for now. You can do that, Armsman, and I’ll be right back with a sedative. Fox, go and get Marie please. We’ll be ready in five minutes.”

It wasn’t exactly what Fox had had in mind, but as the count carried Marie to the door of the ward all they could see was a woman sleeping quietly in the bed, her auburn hair trailing over the pillow and Armsman Walton holding her hand. He folded it back under the covers with a little squeeze and moved away when they came in.“See, Lady Marie? Medtech Dunbar is fast asleep. Your Grandda will give her your drawing when she wakes up.”

Marie took a good long look. She relaxed at last. “I’m glad she’s not dead, Da.”

The count hugged her again and kissed her hair. “So are we all, honey, so are we all. Come on, let’s get you out of here. We’ll go visit Prince Xav.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team has a debrief after the night before.
> 
> MAJOR Kudos to anyone who works out why Darian's first name is what it is...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Celebrating today 500,000 words in the AU life of Ivan Vorpatril, Count Voralys. Who'd have thought?
> 
> Thank you everyone who has read and enjoyed them, and for all your comments. It's much appreciated.

 

They were all of them exhausted, one way or another. Fox looked to the count for orders, but he seemed to be almost in a daze as he stood in the hallway, still hugging Marie as if he never wanted to let her go. Countess Raine took charge. “Fox, I want the watches limited to two hour shifts until midnight, please. Front door only, no need to patrol upstairs. No one is to go out, except anyone who has to go home. Any visitors get told to come back later. My husband and Marie are both of them off to bed, right now, with no arguments. Everyone else gets some good food and sleep.”

He opened his mouth to object, took one look at the expression on her face, and changed his mind. “Yes, m’lady.”

The count didn’t take the hint. “Raine, Karasavas is coming round for a de-brief, and Vorjenner as well. I have to talk to them, and write my report for Gregor.”

“Not until you’ve had some proper rest, you don’t. It will all be a waste of time and you’ll just have to do it again. Philip,” she turned to the count’s secretary. “Arrange the debrief for 1600 hours please. No earlier. After you’ve done that you are off duty, too. Go home to Helen until then. And where are _you_ going, Simon?”

He’d tried to fade away into the background. It didn’t work. She gave him a _look_. “Lady Alys, could you please take care of your husband? I’ll send Driscoll up with a stunner if he gives you any trouble. Four hours sleep, at least. Price, I’m going to ask you to take the second watch. You’re the youngest and fittest so you should be able to manage. Make sure you eat first. Fox, please take the first one. That’s your right. This way everyone else will get at least a four-hour stretch of sleep, if not six.” Hands on hips, she surveyed them all. “Any objections?”

They scattered, all but her stunned husband, Fox and Price. She called out after them. “I’m sending Ma Belka around with the sleep timers and check list, and you will take yours in front of her. I don’t want to hear any complaints from her about any of you.”

The countess held out her arms for Marie. “Do you want to sleep in the big bed, with your Da and me, honey? Come on, we’ll get your pyjamas and I’ll brush your hair for you. Where’s Steggie? Ah, there he is, Price has got him.” She headed off for the stairs. “What are you waiting for, Ivan? Move yourself.”

Price and Fox looked at the retreating count, and then at each other. Price’s eyes were wide open. “Phew! Did you ever guess?”

There was a call from the upper landing. “Where’s Steggie? What’s keeping you, Armsman?”

Price bolted.

 

The dining room was full for the de-brief at 1600 hours. Count Voralys had reluctantly parted from Marie, but only after Fox had heard a tense-voiced conversation between him and his lady wife about him allowing their daughter to return to normal routine. He hadn’t realised just how much sense the countess had until she’d told her husband off for clinging. He looked a bit like a deer in a driving light as she rounded on him. “I don’t care if you’re feeling as guilty as hell, Ivan. We all do. I want to hug her and hold her, too, and never let her out of my sight. So do Simon and Alys and my mother and every single one of your armsmen, not to mention Ma Belka. It’s even worse for her having a daughter the same age and…imagining. This is not about _you_ , is it? We have to do the right thing for Marie. Let her play with Stefa for an hour without us all crowding her. She’ll be in the kitchen with Ma Belka making cupcakes. If she wants you or Papi she knows where you are.”

And that had been that.

Major Karasavas, Lieutenant Vorberg and Ensign Vormayer arrived promptly at the appointed time. It was obvious nobody had been quite so solicitous about _their_ welfare. Vorberg looked ready to drop, Vormayer was wide-eyed with horror still and Karasavas was dour to the point of freezing. Fox was pretty sure Vormayer had had a baptism of fire, if not with the action, definitely with the aftermath, especially if he’d done the clean up in the store room or found the bio weapon. Someone needed to have a word to the lad, if Karasavas had been too busy to do it yet.

Once Major Vorjenner arrived to round out the group they were ready to start. The count gave the floor to Karasavas, who stood at the head of the table frowning at them all. “Count Voralys has asked me to be frank with you today.” He took a side glance to look at him for a long moment, before turning back. “On matters not pertaining to Imperial Security, I’ll do my best.”

Fox could just imagine. The count had asked _ImpSec_ to be frank? He really was in a bad way, wasn’t he? Karasavas continued.

“This goes no further; I want to make that quite clear to you all. Following our inquiries and those of my colleagues in Vorbarr Sultana we have ascertained the following information. The casualty last night was Luca Tarpan of Jackson’s Whole. There was an outstanding Imperial warrant issued in his name for attempted genocide, attempted regicide, murder, attempted murder, kidnapping, sale and supply of illegal drugs and grievous bodily harm. Arrested at the scene and charged with murder, attempted murder and kidnapping at this time were Lord Kurt Voranson, his assigned armsmen Crossan, Millbank and De Burgh and also Dominic Darian, formerly of New Sheffield Municipal Guard.”

There was a concerted sigh from several of the armsmen for the poor buggers caught up in their lord’s activities. Fox found himself wishing things wouldn’t go too badly for them. By the looks of things, Karasavas wasn’t going to have any mercy, but the major hadn’t finished.

“Following extensive interviews in Vorbarr Sultana, Count Voranson has been cleared of any involvement in his son’s activities. Countess Myldris Voranson, however, has been detained on charges ranging from treason to aiding and abetting criminal activity.”

Now _that_ brought a gasp from everyone, even Lady Alys. No, especially Lady Alys. She closed her eyes in utter shock before her expression went blank. “Revenge?” She asked.

Karasavas nodded. “Originally against Count Aral and Lord Miles Vorkosigan, but not against Count Voralys whilst he was still Captain Vorpatril. It’s only been recently she’s included him in her schemes.”

The count groaned. “Since I accepted the countship, you mean. I _knew_ what would happen. If I’d only had more sense—”

Lady Alys hardened her tone. “Spilt milk, Ivan. I thought Myldris was a friend, and she conspired to abduct my granddaughter. Gregor will deal with her.”

Karasavas dismissed Myldris Voranson. “It’s certainly an Imperial, not a District matter, as is my next point.”

Simon Vorillyan interrupted. “Just one moment, Major. How certain are you that the remains found at the scene are Luca Tarpan’s?”

“Very certain, sir. We needed to extract a tooth to find viable DNA for tissue matching, but the Lord Auditor’s inquiry after the _Princess Olivia_ highjacking, and subsequent events, had uncovered identity data on Jackson’s Whole. The two samples match one hundred percent.”

Well, that explained Vormayer. He’d obviously drawn the short straw. Fox looked at him again. He’d turned ever so slightly green now. Karasavas didn’t allow the interruption to stop him. “Found at the scene by Armsman Driscoll were certain biological specimens. I requested him to remain silent on the discovery and I believe he has done so, but his count has a right to know about this, and also, in my judgement, do his fellow armsmen and members of the rescue party. Before any of you leave this room you will give me your oaths that no word of this will spread, but not only did you save Lady Marie and Miss Dunbar last night, there is an extremely high likelihood that Tarpan’s desire for revenge could have had a catastrophic outcome for the Imperium if it had not been er…snuffed out, shall we say.” He bared his teeth for just a fleeting moment of satisfaction. “If any of you hold any misplaced guilt about carrying out the action, or the way things turned out, get rid of it now. You saved what could well be millions of lives.”

Vorberg looked as green as Vormayer, now. No one else looked much better. Walton was closest to the credenza at the side of the room. He grabbed several of the liqueur bottles and spaced them down the table. Price hurried to follow with glasses. Walton poured shots for the count and his lady, and for Lady Alys before sharing with those next to him. Simon Vorillyan had poured his own, and one for the major, too. Once everyone had a glass they raised a silent toast.

Walton refilled his glass. “Medtech Dunbar deserves a medal. She’s the one who stopped Tarpan, at an awful cost to herself.”

Major Karasavas raised his glass again. “I don’t think you’ll find any arguments around this table, Armsman, although no one else will ever know.”

They drank the second toast in silence. Count Voralys tried to pull himself together. He still had a strange look in his eyes. Fox didn’t like the look of it. Who knew when his reaction would come? “Is there anything else you need to share with us, Major?”

“One for the room in general, and later, if I may, a word with Armsman Fox, sir.”

What did the weasel want with him? Fox didn’t have a clue. He’d find out soon enough, that was for sure. Karasavas allowed himself the first brief smile of the tense meeting. “Also found on the premises were a late-model touring ground car fitted for six passengers, false identities for members of the Clarence family, several changes of clothing, credit chits, a variety of disguises, jewellery, gold bullion and a sum of Imperial marks.”

The count rolled his eyes. “So it was another safe house then?”

“Yes, known only to the former count and to Darian, or so he tells me. He’s been helping himself to the cash since he was released from jail and judged the coast was clear, but he was careful. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself. By his account he took three thousand marks, but by my accounting I judge it to be four thousand, three hundred and eighty five marks.”

“How do you work it out that exactly, Karasavas? Did you help him remember every occasion? I most sincerely hope so.”

Karasavas shrugged. “That was not the main focus of our enquiries, sir. Simply that amount added to the remaining cash would round out the sum to exactly one million marks.”

After one appalled stare the count hastily downed another glass of spirit before holding his head in his hands. Fox could appreciate his dismay. Major Vorjenner was probably the only one around the table who had no idea about the previous stash of money Walton had found in his Da’s desk, but this haul capped that one by an order of magnitude. Karasavas has only mentioned the cash. What did the rest of it add up to?

Count Voralys shook his head, trying to get his thoughts in order, by the looks. “It’ll all go back to the District. That’s where he stole it from. Perhaps we can convert the ground car into an ambulance or something.”

“Ivan,” Lady Alys spoke quite softly, all her anger firmly back under control. “There are some reparations to be made, if not rewards.”

“Yes, yes of course.” The count sighed deeply. “We have to get Flora better, first, Mamère. I’ll ask Philip to liaise with you, Mikhail, if I may. I really don’t want to know all the filthy details.”

Karasavas bowed. “Very well, my lord.”

The count wasn’t finished. “Major Vorjenner. We’re so very grateful for your calm expertise, and for answering the call for help without a second thought. There must be something we can do for you, sir.”

Vorjenner looked alarmed. He’d been a rock all during the crisis. “A _thank you_ is more than sufficient for doing my plain duty, sir. Besides, my Imperial Service career petered out on a medical discharge. This action scratched an itch, I suppose you could say.”

Walton huffed into his drink before he exchanged glances with Fox. They both remembered the time the count, the emperor and Lady Alys all decided Walton needed rewarding. He had a little huff himself. Vorjenner had no idea what was about to descend on him, did he? Lady Alys had a _managing_ look in her eye as she regarded him.

They went round the table after that, everyone allowed to say whatever they needed to get off their chests. There wasn’t a lot forthcoming, truth be told, and the longest report was Price’s account of Prince Xav’s latest bulletin. As they wound up Karasavas started to record oaths and allow first the family and then Major Vorjenner and the armsmen to leave. The count, already half way out of the door to find Marie, thought better of it and slipped back into the room when only Fox was left.

“Do I need to know this too, Mikhail?” He asked.

Karasavas looked ill-at-ease for the first time. “If you insist, my lord. It was some more evidence we found. It’s going to be difficult. Perhaps we should sit down?”

Fox didn’t budge. What else had that twelve-toed bastard done? It had to be to Flora, otherwise the count would have been the one to hear it first. “Just tell me.”

Karasavas put his hand in his pocket and drew out a clear evidence bag. A knife sliced into Fox’s gut at the sight. He forgot to breathe until pain hit him and he sucked in an anguished, ragged gasp. Gleaming in the bag was a thick coil of auburn hair. He felt the count grasp his arm in a fierce grip, but couldn’t drag his gaze away from the bag in the major’s hand.

“It won’t be needed for the investigation. Vorberg located it next to the comconsole and secured it. Tarpan was half way through composing a…ransom note, I suppose you could call it. I thought you might like to take custody of it, Fox.”

Somebody, it must have been the count, shoved a chair behind his legs and he sat down suddenly. They talked over his head, too. He heard every word. “Thank you, Mikhail, I see to it. Leave it with me. Perhaps you could ask Armsman Walton to step back in the room in five minutes time, please.”

Another chair scraped up beside him. The count sounded racked with guilt. “Just take a minute, Marcus. Everyone’s been chasing their tails looking after me but the plain fact is I forgot my duty to you all. I’m very, very sorry. Raine was so right. It’s not about _me_. I’ve got Marie back safe and sound, not like— I’ll go to Vorbarr Sultana tonight and see the emperor. We’ll all go. No, wait. Walton has to stay here. Fiona’s going to need somebody. Price needs to stay too, to look after Prince Xav—”

Fox rubbed his hand across his eyes. “You’re babbling, my lord. This is what we signed up for, after all.” He took the evidence bag from the count’s shaking fingers and crushed his hand around it. “Some of us, anyway.”

Walton slipped in through the door a few minutes later. He took one look at the bag and swore with instant, unbridled rage. “ _Damn_ Tarpan’s maggoty charred hide. We can get that dog-bollocks Darian though, my lord, _and_ Lord fuckwit Voranson. Just give us the word. Harper, Price and I can be in and out without anyone knowing. I’ll slit their gizzards myself. Yuri’s arse we’ll get them.”

The count shook his head. “Ohhh, no, Walton, we do things the right way, but you can be number two on the firing squad. Fox here is going to be number one and by my name’s word as Voralys I’m going to be number three. They’d better not even try and stop me. Simon’s already booked a spot, too, and Price can round out the squad to even up for Prince Xav. My cousin Miles will have to take a number if he’s back in time. Gregor himself would line them up if he could. I should invite him too because I’m sure he’d like to pull the trigger himself. Look after Fox for me, Walton. You’re both relieved.” He waved a hand in the direction of the credenza. “Anything I’ve got, men. Anything.”

Alcohol wasn’t going to cut it. Fox very carefully and deliberately stowed the precious bag inside his tunic next to his heart before he stood up. He hands were perfectly under control now, not shaking at all. There was merely a quiet screaming behind his eyes, somewhere. “No need for that, sir. We’ll get the travel arrangements organised. Perhaps, with your permission, Walton could move back to the Dower House, or Fiona might like to stay here with Dr Waleska.”

“I’ll leave that up to them. There’s no budget, Walton, whatever you need to do down here, you’re authorised. If you two will excuse me. I want to go and talk to my wife and daughter now, and let them know we’re going back to Vorbarr Sultana.”

Just before he reached the door he thought of something and stopped. “Oh, and Walton, if you should chance to get a lecture from Wally about no sex with traumatised victims, just ignore him. You do whatever you judge best.”

Where had that come from? It was fair to say they were all not exactly on an even keel right at the moment, but Walton wasn't thinking about sex right now, he was thinking about murder. Fox could see by the way his chest rose and fell so rapidly that he was still highly agitated. “Don’t you go and do anything stupid, Walton. You have to think about Fiona now. Concentrate on her.”

Walton’s breath hissed in, and then he exhaled very, very slowly. “She kissed me this morning. She was ready to spit me last night, and then she kissed me. I didn’t do anything but sit there, I swear, next to the bed, until she fell asleep.”

“It’ll be like that, up and down, for months, probably. All you can do is _be_ there for her.”

“I need to be there for you, too, Fox. Who’s going to do that when you’re in Vorbarr Sultana?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Shit. Don’t give me that crap. Look what happened last time when I left you alone for five minutes in the Great Square!”

“Fine, worry about me, but after you’ve done all your other worrying first.”

“I’ll get Harper to—”

“No.” Fox cut him off. “No, Walton. I can deal with it. Once the count gets Wrachmann released and back to New Sheffield I’ll need some favours then.”

Walton regarded his steadily for a few moments before he stuck out his hand. “Fair enough. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“I still want to slit Darian’s gizzard, only thing I can’t decide is before or after I cut his balls off.”

Fox just nodded. It was time to go back to Vorbarr Sultana. They had to get Dr Wrachmann released. _Somehow._


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, back in Vorbarr Sultana...

 

Fox took one look at Kosa’s face and decided not to argue about who was duty pilot. He took the vacant spot in the passenger cabin instead, next to the door. Simon Vorillyan covered the door on the starboard side, facing the rear. Lady Alys and the countess sat next to him, with Lady Marie in between Fox and the count. It wasn’t ideal, but the most secure combination they could come up with. Harper and Sarmiento crammed into the front with Kosa. Major Karasavas sent Vorberg along in one of the escorts, and the rest of the armsmen travelling with them spread themselves between the two. It was still early evening, not long after sunset and they could see the terminator for a few minutes longer once they got up to altitude, with the familiar patterns of the stars firming as the light finally faded. There was no cloud and New Sheffield traffic control had re-routed everything else to a holding pattern until they were well on their way. It was beautiful, with the lights of the city sprinkled below them. It didn’t mean that anyone relaxed.

Lady Marie wasn’t happy. She sniffed from time to time and her lower lip stuck out when she wasn’t muttering to Steggie. Smart animal didn’t argue back, Fox noted. Perhaps he could distract her.

“What’s wrong, Lady Marie? Aren’t you comfortable?”

She sniffed again and despite the constraints of her seat belt did her best to turn her back on her Da. “I want Prince Xav and Princess. A really mean person wouldn’t allow me to bring them.”

Oh. Was it her Da in the bad books, or Lady Alys? “They weren’t being mean. If you’d asked me I would have said no, too. Remember when you had that cold, and your ears wouldn’t pop properly? It would have been like that for Prince Xav, only about five times worse. He has a really bad headache, still. Price will fetch him home just as soon as he’s able. You know Princess had to stay to stop him getting lonely. You’ve still got Steggie.”

She looked at him with a dubious expression on her face. “Five times as bad?”

“Yes ma’am, if not more. He’s only a little kitty. It’s our duty to do what’s best for Prince Xav, not what _we_ want.”

Very hard done by, she sighed a long, lingering breath. “Well, all right then, Markie, if it’s my duty. Thank you for ‘splaining to me.”

Over her head the count looked quite indignant. Lady Marie obviously hadn’t believed _him_. He had the good sense not to say anything and after a few minutes her little hand crept back over to hold on to his. It looked like all was forgiven. Fox and the countess caught each other’s gaze and both hid smiles. Marie couldn’t be mad at anyone for more than five minutes straight, unless she worked herself up into a total tantrum.

It was an uneventful flight until they were about twenty minutes out, just before traffic control VBS locked in their course. Kosa stiffened in his seat and patched through a message.

“Flash message, sir. Armsman Gerard to speak to you privately.”

The count paled just a little before he pulled on his earbuds and deployed the in-seat vid screen. Fox watched his eyes widen as he listened. His pallor was even worse by the time Gregor’s armsman had finished.

“Bad news, sir?” Fox asked.

The count looked down at Marie, who had dozed off half an hour previously. “I need to get to The Residence. We’ll detour to drop me there before you take Marie home, Mamère. Fox will come with me and the others will stay with you. Simon, will you take charge, please?”

The count looked around at them all, his face drained of colour. “There’s been a message from Ekaterin. Miles isn’t well; he’s very seriously ill. Gerard has no other details he can share with me at the moment.” He touched the intercom. “Kosa, ImpSec will be routing us to the The Residence landing pad. Just give them the codes when they ask.”

It didn’t take a genius to work out if was Lady Vorkosigan sending the messages _Lord_ Vorkosigan had to be in a bad way, and if it was Gerard who was doing the talking for the emperor, he wasn’t feeling too clever about the situation, either. Trouble came in threes, or three times threes. There surely couldn’t be anything else that _could_ go wrong, could there?

They stopped for barely three minutes. Fox exited one door, the count the other and the countess and Simon Vorillyan swapped sides to bookend Marie. The count blew his wife a kiss, and the flyer was gone. One of Gregor’s armsmen appropriated their deadly weapons, leaving Fox his stunner which was a promotion of sorts from the last time he’d visited, and whisked them off to the emperor’s—no, they weren’t heading for the office. The armsman handed them off at the door to the private apartment. It wasn’t anywhere Fox had been before. He stopped at the entrance.

“Should I wait here, sir?”

The count shook his head and beckoned him in. “Just sit in the corner and don’t say boo. If the emperor talks to you, answer him and just say _sire_.”

It was all a lot simpler and less luxurious than Fox would ever have imagined. The emperor was waiting in his study, or library. Fox couldn’t decide which. The furniture was old and comfortable, in contrast to the very modern art decorating the walls. The count never took his eyes off his cousin, motioning Fox behind his back to a chair near the pseudo-window.

Emperor Gregor Vorbarra looked tired and strained. He stood as upright as ever as the count came in, but the hand he held out was more like a drowning man seeking a saviour. He acknowledged Fox with a tiny nod, but turned straight to his cousin. “Ivan! Miles…Miles is—”

“He’s not dead, is he, Gregor? Don’t tell me that.” To Fox’s immense shock the count enveloped the emperor in a huge bear hug and they each laid their head on the other’s shoulder. It was as intense as it was brief. The emperor broke away first.

“Not when we last heard. They’re considering a cryochamber, though.”

“Oh, friggin’ hell. Not again! What’s happened? How could a _honeymoon_ go so wrong?”

Gregor half-laughed, half sobbed. “Only Miles, eh? He’s been contaminated with a Cetagandan biological agent. Our people can see the damned thing and know how it works, but they’ve got no way of turning it off. They’re redlining it for Eta Ceta and help, Ekaterin says. They’ve got the missing star crèche replicators with them, all one thousand of them. They were hidden at Graf Station by a renegade Ba. Miles sent a message before he became too unwell, letting us know about the replicators. Barrayar was framed, and it very nearly turned out to be the _perfect_ frame. Thanks all that’s mighty for some cool heads on both sides that we haven’t started a shooting war already. We should hear in about twelve hours if they make it in time.”

“I’ll wait with you.”

“Thank you. Ekaterin is sending word every hour. The next jump is into Cetagandan space. I guess we’ll find out then if this isn’t some mysterious double triple cross. They’re expecting to be boarded by a medical team then.” He suddenly remembered Ivan’s own troubles. “But tell me, how is Marie? I was very sorry to hear your medtech was injured, too.”

“We owe Flora Dunbar _everything_ , Gregor. She saved Marie, killed Tarpan, or as good as, and she’s hurt, Gregor. She’s hurt so badly.”

Gerard came into the room with a tray of drinks. The emperor looked over. “Armsman Fox, would you like something?”

 _What_? Fox could only stammer out a refusal. “N…No, sire. No thank you. I’ve already had a drink tonight. That was plenty.”

“Very well. We’re going to start from the beginning and Count Voralys will give me his verbal report. If you think you can help to make things clear, please speak up.”

The count did a good job, presenting a very creditable précis of what had taken place. Even Gregor’s face showed shock when it came to the biologicals. Vorberg was probably shocking Guy Allegre just about now as well. The emperor sat back in his chair and sighed when it came to an end. “There’s not too much to add from this end. Countess Voranson was responsible for hiding Tarpan when we thought he’d dropped off the face of the planet. They were holed up in a hunting lodge just the other side of the Voralys District border. Lord Kurt was the go-between, the one remaining nut we hadn’t managed to crack, but he’s wide open now. Singing like a canary isn’t going to save him, or his treasonous mother.”

The venom in his voice was impossible to miss. Fox blinked as his chocolate box icon vision of his emperor vanished. This was one angry man, even if the emotion wasn’t immediately apparent on his face. Count Voralys sounded just as deadly.

“We’re holding a spot on the firing squad for you, and I’m absolutely serious about that. I don’t care what you do with Voranson, or his mother— no, I don’t mean that, I mean I don’t care how you part their heads from their bodies, but Darian is a District matter, and he _is_ going up against the wall.”

They were grim together for a moment, obviously contemplating the scene.

The emperor sighed at last. “Keep me updated. There’ll be no appeals entered into. I can promise you that.”

The count was true to his pledge to Fox. “About Medtech Dunbar, sire. She desperately needs more help than Wally can give her right now. What’s the situation with Dr Wrachmann? We need him.”

“Wrachmann? ah, yes. Your BetaCetan. I’d almost forgotten about him with the other crises we’ve been dealing with. He’s been parked in the ImpSec witness holding area. As far as I know he’s been very cooperative and agreed to the use of fast-penta without anything but a mild protest that he was perfectly willing to testify without it. It’s actually quite remarkable. Guy hasn’t interviewed him thoroughly yet, but preliminaries suggest that although he genuinely doesn’t know who his parents were, he does know what his grandmother _did_. Guy’s beginning to form the idea that he’s here to try and make some sort of reparation, and at her suggestion, what’s more.”

Fox hadn’t said a word so far, but weren’t the two of them missing something here? Did he dare interrupt? He shifted uneasily in his seat.

The emperor looked directly at him. “Your armsman wants to say something, Ivan.” He gestured him to go ahead. “What is it, Fox?”

Fox jumped to his feet and stood to rigid attention. The count shook his head. “ _Relax_ , Fox. The emperor’s not going to take your head off.”

He managed to shift one foot sideways and his hands behind his back. It was a parody of _at ease_. “Yes, my lord. Only…if Wrachmann knows what his grandmother did, do you think there’s any possible way he could help the Lord Auditor, even if it’s—”

He didn’t get to finish. The emperor slammed his hand down on his comconsole. “Gerard, get Guy Allegre and have him bring Dr Wrachmann to my office immediately. Priority alpha.” He held his head in his hand for a second. “Why the _hell_ didn’t we think of that, Ivan, even if it’s just the slimmest of chances?”

The count spread his hands. “I have no idea. I didn’t know about Miles until an hour ago. Fox just has a fresh point of view, I suppose.”

The emperor sprang up out of his chair to pace. “Sit down, Fox. Thank you! If we can just understand what the doctors are dealing with there may be something we can suggest they haven’t come up with yet, maybe buy him some more time, at least. Wait here, both of you, while I get cleaned up.”

The emperor was wearing himself out, fretting for his cousin. He disappeared out of the study, calling for his valet.

“I wonder where Laisa is,” the count remarked. “She’s good at keeping him from brooding too much. It’s damned hard on him, ordering everyone else out to do his work for him. It can send you crazy, worrying about my cousin.”

What was he supposed to say to that? “He must know that we all do it willingly, my lord. He’s such a great man. Look at Barrayar today. What can Lady Marie look forward to, growing up? She’s got a _future_.”

The count shrugged. “Thanks to Flora. None of us is ever going to forget that.”

The emperor didn’t keep them waiting long. He emerged from his dressing room freshly depilated and wearing an immaculate charcoal grey suit. Fox fell in behind his two Vorbarra armsmen as they hurried one corridor over and one down to his main office. His night secretary must have been forewarned; through the reception office and into the main one the lights blazed and the tea and coffee carafes were just coming up to brew.

Fox followed them in and sat on a hard chair just behind and to the left of his count. This time he did accept a cup of tea. They might be here a while.

General Allegre didn’t keep them waiting long, but he entered alone. He was not a happy man. After the briefest of salutes, he protested. “Sire, I cannot like this plan of yours to interview Wrachmann personally. He’s a totally unacceptable risk to your safety.”

“Noted, Guy. Please bring him in, however.” The general opened his mouth but the emperor cut him off before he said a word. “Now, General, if you please.”

Allegre clamped down on what he was going to say. He had to be biting his tongue enough to make it bleed. He touched a button on his wrist com and the door opened again. Wrachmann entered, closely escorted on both side by two of the biggest ImpSec goons Fox had ever seen.

The emperor’s lips thinned. “Thank you, Sergeants. You’re dismissed. You may wait in the outer office.”

In some dismay the senior man looked to the general for guidance. There was only the briefest nod of his head. The guards stamped to attention, turned about and left the room. Armsman Gerard stayed right where he was. There was an unspoken message in his eyes as he looked at Fox briefly, before turning his full attention to Wrachmann. It was an interesting way to swear him in as a deputy, but Fox was in no doubt. If Wrachmann made a move, he’d be intercepted.

The emperor held out his hand. “Dr Wrachmann. I’m very pleased to meet you. Won’t you please sit down?”

Wrachmann looked pale, and his quiet elegance slightly dishevelled, but he returned the handshake with calm aplomb, turned to shake the count’s hand and waited for Gerard to escort him to an armchair, set only a little back from the count and emperor. He sat as soon as the emperor took his own place. Guy Allegre pulled up another chair alongside. Any closer and they’d be touching each other. The emperor ignored him.

“Dr Wrachmann, I’d like you to read a report we’ve received concerning a Cetagandan biological agent, and the treatment my people are using at the moment. If there’s anything you can add, or suggestions you can make, we would be very grateful.”

An expression of surprised crossed the doctor’s face, very swiftly hidden. “That’s not at all what I expected you to say to me, sir. I thought I’d been called here for quite another reason. I don’t know if I can be of any help to you, but I’m happy to try. Has the agent been identified?”

“Yes, my people know what it is and can see what it’s doing. They have no clue how to stop it. It’s some sort of parasite, but it’s hard to explain. You’d better see the reports.” Everyone leapt up when the emperor rose to his feet. Allegre moved very subtly to put himself between the two of them as they walked back over to the comconsole.

“Please sit here, Doctor. You can read everything we have.”

After only a couple of minutes Wrachmann looked up. “There are two victims?”

“Yes, Portmaster Thorne and the Lord Auditor.”

“Thorne? Like Sela Thorne?”

Count Voralys shook his head. “Same name, and they’re both herms, but no actual relation.”

The emperor broke in. “Thorne was infected some considerable time before the Lord Auditor. At least a day earlier. It’s in a bad way.”

“Hmm.” The doctor kept reading. He flicked backwards and forwards between bloodwork reports. “This isn’t right.” He muttered to himself a little more, before he sat back and sighed. “It’s a good idea to reduce core temperature. Has your doctor treated herms before?”

Allegre, Count Voralys and the emperor all looked at each other and shrugged. The emperor guessed. “I would think not. There are no herms in the Imperial Service.”

Wrachmann sighed. “Herms have slightly different acid-alkali blood balances to monosexuals. It’s caused by the hormone mix. These parasites thrive in more acidic solutions. Get your doctor to increase alkalosis to 7.5 in the herm and 7.45 in your Barrayaran. It might give them another few hours each. It’s not much, but it might help, apart from the cramping, of course. That’s going to be a painful side effect. I’m afraid there’s nothing much more I can suggest. Both of them are in very grave danger and it will be fatal if they don’t receive the correct therapy very soon. Within the next twelve hours for the herm, and twenty-four hours for the Lord Auditor, as he has a much smaller body mass to start with, from the looks of things.”

The emperor snapped out a few orders over the comconsole. Once that was done he looked to the count. “It’ll take time to reach them, but it’s something, Ivan. It’s _something_.”

General Allegre’s voice dripped acid. “Perhaps Dr Wrachmann would like to share with us his familiarity with this bio-agent.”

“My grandmother helped to develop very similar pathogens, General, when she worked on Barrayar during the Occupation. I told you that already. I haven’t been holding out on you. If you can find her lab, you might find her notes. She said she left everything behind, at the last.”

Fox just about choked. The count looked sick, too. Wrachmann regarded the two of them. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, I forgot for the moment that you won’t have seen a transcript of my interrogation. My grandmother fled to Beta rather than be forced to participate any further in what she labelled atrocities. My grandfather got wind of plans to deploy a nuclear strike on—” He broke off. “On a town with the same name as your Lord Auditor. That can’t be a coincidence, can it?”

“Not hardly.” The count stared at him. “Are you saying your grandfather knew about it beforehand?”

“He tried everything he could to stop it. Obviously he wasn’t successful.”

There was a deathly silence. Wrachmann looked around the room. “Grandmother always wanted to come back and make what reparations she could, but it just wasn’t possible. My father took no interest, so it has fallen to me, you see.”

 

 

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr Wrachmann is needed in New Sheffield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early posting this week as I'm travelling over the weekend.

 

“I don’t see that at all. What I do see is the possibility that you have just signed the Lord Auditor’s death warrant, sire.”

Fox, the count and the emperor all stared at Guy Allegre in utter shock. The general was white with emotion as he continued. “What in three worlds were you thinking, to order treatment on this man’s word alone? On a _Cetagandan’s_ word? Have we any proof of his assertions?”

The count was quick to defend him. “He’s a damned good doctor, General, and he’s Betan, not Cetagandan. He can’t help his grandparents. We’ve seen the proof of his skill down in my District. I don’t believe for one second he would deliberately harm anyone.”

Allegre spat back at him. “With respect, my lord count, what _you_ believe is immaterial.”

The emperor held his hand up to silence the count’s hot rejoinder. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Guy. I think you fears are groundless, however.”

Allegre couldn’t tell his emperor what he’d just told the count, much as he obviously wanted to. “We have _no_ proof, sire. This could well be very deep laid treachery.”

Fox looked at Wrachmann. He’d schooled his features very carefully, but the man was clearly frustrated by General Allegre’s obduracy. He hadn’t been lying. “Pardon me, sire, but we could ask Sela Thorne. If Dr Wrachmann’s right about the different blood chemistry, Sela should be able to confirm it.”

The count slapped him on the back. “Of course! That’s the second good idea you’ve had tonight, Fox. It’s very easy to check.” He glowered at the general, still offended.

The emperor signalled to Gerard, who murmured into his wristcom.

“I hope it isn’t drowning its sorrows,” the emperor said as the wait stretched out. “I sent Byerly Vorrutyer to Komarr three days ago. We’re wrapping up loose ends. Theo Vormercier seems to think he’s faded into the woodwork, but the Imperium begs to differ. We’ll need to send Vorrutyer some help, Guy, now that this Cetagandan crisis seems to be easing off. Who do you have available?”

The general’s eyes widened. “My officers are pulling double shifts as it is, my lord, especially on the Komarr station. I don’t think—no, wait. I can send Vorberg. Karasavas and Vormayer are more than capable of wrapping up the Voralys District affair.”

“Very well. He’s worked with Vorrutyer before. It may well do very nicely. See to it, please, with all despatch.”

Poor Vorberg. Fox could only imagine the joy he would feel on getting that little assignment. He’d have to go in the kit he stood up in. Everything else was back in New Sheffield. Well, if he didn’t like it, he shouldn’t have joined, should he?

It was Allegre’s turn to move to one side and murmur into his wristcom. He had barely finished before the emperor’s comconsole chirped. The secretary’s voice came through. “Sela Thorne for you, sire.”

Wrachmann vacated the chair, prudently moving to the side between Fox and Gerard and away from the emperor, who instead signalled General Allegre to the seat. “It’s best if you speak to him, Guy. You’re the one that needs convincing.”

“Yes, sire. Of course.”

Sela Thorne’s face came up. It looked distraught. Before the general could say a word it burst out. “What’s happened to my Byerly? Is he dead?”

“What?” Allegre sounded perplexed for a moment. “Vorrutyer? He’s still on his way to Komarr.” He paused, then continued a trifle stiffly. “May I assure you, Thorne, if it _is_ the case that one of my operatives meets with misadventure, next of kin are not informed via a comconsole message. Imperial Security shows more respect to the families than that.”

“It’s past midnight, for heaven’s sake. I was _asleep_. What’s a herm supposed to think?” Sela still sounded very upset.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience. For the good of the Imperium, we need your help on a matter that cannot wait.”

There was silence for a moment or two as Sela swallowed down what it was going to say. “Oh, well, if you put it like that, what can I do for the Imperium tonight?”

Sela’s expression changed again as the general asked his questions. “You want me to explain to you the difference between herms and monosexuals? I always knew Barrayarans were backwards, General, but really, you woke me up to ask me _that_?”

The emperor came up to stand behind Allegre’s shoulder, using one hand to press him back into his seat when he would have risen. “It’s the subtle differences we need to know about, Thorne. Blood chemistry, for instance.”

Sela calmed down. “Oh, you’re there too, sire. I beg your pardon. I thought General Allegre was having some sort of joke at my expense, but if you want to know it must be important. Herms do have different blood chemistry. On average we’re five points more alkaline than monosexuals, and our mean body temperature is 37.2°C. Byerly says I have hot blood. He quite likes it on a cold night.”

“I’m sure Vorrutyer would know best. Thank you very much, Thorne. You’ve been most helpful. That’s all we needed. We’re sorry to have woken you up, and even more sorry to have frightened you, but it was important.”

“I’m only glad I could help, sire. Please excuse my…confusion.”

The emperor nodded and cut the com.

 _Yes!_ Fox breathed out a sigh of relief. He could see the count relax, too. The doctor hadn’t made that up, at least, not that he’d expected him to be caught out in a lie.

“So, Guy?” The emperor looked at him. “Are you convinced?”

“Not convinced, sire, but on the balance of probabilities I will concede Wrachmann was accurate. If we had samples of this pathogen we could test his other statement about acidity.”

“That’s impossible, as you well know. I’m happy to believe him. You can release him from custody. He’s needed elsewhere.”

The doctor’s attention was caught by that one. “Has something happened to Darek Belka? He should be almost ready for discharge by now.”

Fox waited for the count to speak, but he only signalled for him to go ahead. “There’s been an incident, Doctor. Medtech Dunbar, Flora, has been burned. Luckily her uniform protected her torso and limbs, but—“ He had to break off as the horrific vision struck him again with overpowering force. He’d never forget that sight until the day he died. “Her feet, Doctor. Her hands, and…and her hair caught fire and burned her scalp. She’s in an induced coma at the moment. Dr Waleska is doing all he can, but she needs you.”

Wrachmann inhaled sharply. “This is all so unnecessary. Your majesty, if I give you my name’s word to return for further questioning, may I be permitted to go to New Sheffield? Time is a critical factor when it comes to burns treatment.”

The emperor regarded him with a cool look. “There’s nothing further you can suggest that may help the Lord Auditor or Portmaster Thorne?”

“No, sir. I would wish matters differently, but there’s only one antidote, and I believe that to be in the Cetagandan Empire. I can do no good there. In New Sheffield, however…”

The emperor deliberated for a moment or two, then nodded. “Very well. What if l release you into Armsman Fox’s custody? You’ll stay under watch at Voralys House or Voralys District House when you’re not at the hospital, and your communications will be monitored.”

Guy Allegre opened his mouth and shut it again. No doubt Ensign Vormayer was about to have a change of assignment too. Fox would sleep across the doctor’s door if it meant Flora could get his undivided attention. What about the count? The final decision was his.

Count Voralys seemed quite happy to go along with the emperor’s suggestion. “Take the doctor back to Voralys House, Fox. Send Driscoll to wait for me here, and get a good night’s sleep, or what’s left of it. You can pilot Dr Wrachmann back in the morning. I need Philip Nicolaides up here, now that I’m staying in the capital. You’ll have to stay with the doctor in New Sheffield until matters there are resolved. Stick like glue. I’ll talk to you later. Good luck with everything.”

Yes, yes, _yes_! Fox tried to control his elation. “Thank you, my lord, and you too, sire. I’m sure you won’t regret this. I’ll make sure Dr Wrachmann stays safe and well.”

The count shook his hand and gripped his shoulder. “She’ll be fine now, Fox. You’ll see. I’ll dance at your wedding yet.”

 _Wedding?_ Fat chance. As long as she was safe, healed and out of pain, that’s all he cared about right now. Dr Wrachmann bowed to the emperor, and then shook the count’s hand in turn.

“I really hope you have good news of your cousin and the herm soon. As long as your fleet surgeon is able to avoid hyperpyrexia they should be able to hold on. I’ll do my best for Flora Dunbar. You can rely on me.” He looked around for Fox. “Shall we go, Armsman?”

General Allegre hadn’t quite finished. “It’s not a bodyguard _for_ Dr Wrachmann I had in mind. If I may be permitted to withdraw, sire, I’ll escort him to his transport.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea.” The emperor had had enough of General Allegre’s caution, just for the moment. Fox had the distinct impression he’d be glad to see the back of him. Allegre was paid to be cautious, though, and doubt everything. The man was only doing his job.

“Lady Alys and Simon Vorillyan will be anxious for news,” Fox reminded the count. “If you hear anything at all—”

“Of course, Fox. There’s nothing we can tell them just now. It’s touch and go. My cousin Miles has got himself out of worse fixes than this, though. You’ll see.”

The emperor and the count turned away to the comconsole to wait for the next report from Lady Vorkosigan. Gerard opened the door from them and Fox led the doctor out, with General Allegre hot on their heels.

Once Fox retrieved his weapon the two of them were escorted by the grim general and his two menacing sergeants into an ImpSec duty vehicle to be taken to Voralys House. It wasn’t until they moved out of the gates that Dr Wrachmann sat back and finally relaxed. “Thank you Fox. That was a less than pleasant experience.”

“I can well imagine, Doctor. Anyone sane avoids ImpSec like—” Fox broke off. He was about to say, _like the plague_. It didn’t seem quite appropriate just now.

Wrachmann didn’t press him. “Thank God for fast-penta, anyway. I don’t want to think about the alternative. Tell me exactly what’s happened to Flora, and what’s been done for her already.”

The first part was easy enough to answer, but he didn’t know enough about her treatment to give more than a brief description of what he’d seen. Dr Wrachmann drummed his fingers on the seat beside him. “I need to talk to Dr Waleska, but your count was right. The first thing I need to do is sleep, and so does the good doctor. It’s no good contacting him now. What time can we be away in the morning?”

“0800 hrs, and if I gun it we can be there just after 1000. With just the two of us aboard the flyer should get up to top speed pretty quickly.”

“I can talk to Waleska on the way, and hit the ground running. He’s one of the best administrators I’ve ever met, and more than competent as a trauma surgeon so I’m sure he’ll have done everything in his power to stabilise her. How is Fiona taking all this?”

That was another memory Fox would rather forget. “Not well, to start with. She bottled it all up while they were treating Flora in the Emergency room, but it all came out not long after. Barrayar is not her favourite place, and we are most certainly not her favourite people right now, starting with your detention. The count ordered Armsman Walton to look after her. He’ll be doing all he can.”

Fox made the doctor as comfortable as he could in the same guest room Flora had used, he realised. The man needed a change of clothes. He found some clean ship knits and whisked away the rumpled clothes for cleaning and pressing. He brought up a decent meal on a tray that wasn’t rat bars and waited while he took a hot shower. Driscoll headed off to The Residence, and eventually everyone else settled down to snatch a few hours’ sleep. Everyone except Fox, that was.

A shower didn’t help. Fox closed the door to his room behind him. He had to take another sleep timer before he could rest. He didn’t want it to become a habit, but every time he closed his eyes all he could see was Flora’s face, and hear her agonised screams. He slipped a hand under his pillow to lay it on top of the lock of hair in its impersonal evidence bag. Moisture blurred his eyes as he tried to control his ragged breathing. Every time he stopped _doing_ he started thinking. The last thing he wanted to do was _think_.

“We’re coming, Flora. Just hang on.”

It took a while, but at last his eyes closed and he gradually relaxed.

 

The skies were low and grey when the flyer took off the next morning. Dr Wrachmann looked back to normal and a decent breakfast had worked wonders, or was that the coffee? Fox had managed to eat as well, now that there was something for him to be doing. He’d been up again at 0600 hours to slam his way around the exercise circuit in the ballroom and check and recheck the duty rosters with Harper. Everything was in the best order he could manage before he said good bye to Lady Marie and the countess and headed out. Marie was still missing her cats. “Make sure you send Prince Xav and Princess home very soon, Markie. They must be very sad, even though Price is looking after them.”

There was still no sign of Count Voralys, and no further word on his cousin the Lord Auditor.

 

The cloud whirled away in a dual vortex behind them as the flyer punched through into the sunlit morning. With the gauges just shading red they hurtled south and east. About thirty minutes away from Vorbarr Sultana the cloud layer started to break up. The occasional glimpses of fields and settlements became more frequent. The oak forests were almost bare of leaves now, dull, grey-brown skeletons above a russet carpet, and the fields were equally bare of crops with the last of the harvest taken in. It was a bleak and lifeless time of year without the snowy cloak of winter to soften the stark contours of the land. Dr Wrachmann spent twenty minutes on the com to Dr Waleska. Fox didn’t understand a lot of the technical jargon, but _stable_ and _no infection_ reassured him, as did the news that Flora’s feet wouldn’t need grafts. Once he’d finished the doctor talked to him.

“It’s very good news that her face wasn’t affected. The psychological aspects of burns go a lot deeper than most people give credit for. Take Belka, for example. He must have had a will of iron and enormous family support to get through. We’ll be needing you to help with that side of things, Fox, when you’re not babysitting me.”

He could do both. “Of course, doctor. Anything I can do. I don’t have any other duties at the moment.”

They could see the ground car alongside the front steps when they circled in to land. Walton had it ready for them and waved a welcome as they approached. There seemed to be a lot of people waiting for them as they touched down on the roof of the District Offices. Karasavas and Vormayer were there, naturally, but also Price, Philip Nicolaides, who would be flying back to the capital to be with the count, his wife Helen, probably to wave him off, and a man in Voralys livery that Fox didn’t immediately recognise. Someone from the offices, perhaps? Karasavas obviously wasn’t worried about him.

Fox popped the canopy and they climbed out. They’d brought nothing in the way of luggage so that didn’t delay them. It was the stranger who stepped forward to shake the doctor’s hand. He was tall, good looking, mid thirties with dark hair. He looked familiar, and yet… It was only when Fox heard him speak that the mark dropped.

“ _Darek_ , is that you? They let you out?”

The man turned to face him. There were a few lingering bruises down his neck under his left ear, and his hair was a bit lop-sided, but other than that he looked _wonderful_.

“Armsman Fox. Hello.”

Fox surged forwards to clasp him in a hug and then slap him on the back. “Darek! I can’t believe it. What did Olga have to say when she saw you walking in the door?”

“Nothing. She was crying too much. I’m only on overnight leave for Piotr’s birthday. The kids had one hell of a shock. I don’t think they even remembered me from before. I’m going to beg a lift back to the hospital with you, if you don’t mind. I could do with a rest in a quiet bed again. It was chaos here last night.”

“Good chaos, I’ll bet. Of course you can come with us. This is _good_ news. No, it’s the best news. Just look at you!”

“I have been. Fiona said she was going to start calling me Narcissus if I didn’t stop staring into the mirror. I can’t thank Dr Wrachmann and Doctor Waleska enough.”

Tears welled up into his eyes suddenly. “And Flora and Fiona, of course. I shouldn’t keep you waiting.”

“You’re right. Let’s go.”

Major Karasavas finished talking to Dr Wrachmann. As he’d suspected, Ensign Vormayer added himself to the party as they descended in the lift tube.

“It’s good to see you got him back from ImpSec’s clutches.” Walton shook Fox’s hand before he ushered everyone into their seats. Fox climbed into the front to ride shotgun and studied his fellow armsman as they drove along. He looked a lot less tense than the angry man Fox had left behind. He wasn’t exactly smiling, it was Walton, after all, but he was relaxed and only normally alert, not hyper-vigilant like they’d all been recently.

“How is she?”

“Flora? Still sedated. Wally’s managed to restrict the reactive oxygen species enough to keep the inflammation down, and he’s got the hydrogen sulphide under control, too. It’s just a stop-gap, though, while he was waiting for Wrachmann.”

“I actually meant Fiona, although it does sound like you’ve been talking to her, at least.”

That did make him glance over for a moment. A brief smile flickered across his face. “You’re right. I’ve learned more about burns in twenty-six hours than I ever dreamed of knowing. Makes for strange pillow talk, though. She talks, I listen.”

Pillow talk? _Interesting_ … “So you’re forgiven, then. I’m glad to hear that, Walton.”

“It wasn’t like that. I just held on to her until she fell asleep. I was forgiven this morning but I might not be tonight when she comes off shift. _If_ she comes off shift. We have to prise her out of that hospital. She’s moved into the main house for the duration. It was Wally’s idea. We couldn’t leave her where she was on her own. Ma is going to take over the cooking when Darek and Olga go back to Vorbarr Sultana. Fiona just needs to vent. A lot. She flips from total despair to screaming anger in less time than it takes to blink. I don’t blame her.”

They pulled up at the hospital entrance to find Wally waiting for them. As the car settled down to the ground Fox made ready to pop the canopy and escort Dr Wrachmann. He paused for a moment. “No, Walton, I don’t blame her, either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of my research on burns comes from this article.
> 
> https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5214064/


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flora wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still travelling so I'm posting when I can.

 

_Pain_. It wouldn’t go away. Flora tried to turn her head only to have agony burst behind her eyes. Bad idea. Very bad. She tried to open her eyes instead. It was impossible. She tried to swallow. That was worse. Her mouth felt like all the sand on Beta had taken up residence. Trapped in her worst nightmare, she whimpered with the pain, and with fear.

“Flo? Can you hear me? It’s Fi. Don’t try to move.”

Flora felt slight tugs as something she hadn’t even realised was there was taken off first one eye, then another. A cool wet cloth wiped her face and eyes.

“You’re in a grav bed, Flora. You were burned. Here, I’m going to give you some mouth rinse. See if you can swish and spit. You’re face down. You won’t choke.”

It tasted quite pleasant, some sort of medicated mint, squirted into her mouth with a syringe. Flora knew what it was, and was grateful for the cool relief in her parched mouth. She didn’t spit as much as let it dribble out again. Spitting was too much effort.

Something rubbed up and down her back. As the voice spoke again she realised it was her sister’s hand. “Dr Wrachmann has brought you out of stasis and he’s changed your pain relief. It’ll be kicking in any minute now. You can open your eyes. We’re going to turn you onto your side. Don’t try to do anything. Let the bed do it.”

Yes, she could open her eyes. As she attempted to focus everything swayed around her as the bed whirred to change her position. The figures were blurry, dressed in isolation suits, but she could see Fiona’s blue eyes through her face shield, and brown ones, too. Dr Waleska and a much taller figure. Oh, yes, Dr Wrachmann.

Her voice sounded hoarse, and talking pulled at the skin on her neck. “What did I do?”

“Welcome back.” That was Wally. “You were burned, Flora, when you rescued Lady Marie. Do you remember?”

Oh yes. _Tarpan_. “Did somebody get him?”

“You got him yourself. He’s not going to bother anyone ever again. Can you see as far as the viewing window?”

Her wits were coming back to her now as the pain subsided to a dull ache as long as she didn’t move. She shifted her focus past the doctor’s shoulder. “Oh. It’s Marcus.” She sighed. “I’ll be all right if Marcus is here.”

 

When she woke up again it was early morning. Fiona dozed in a chair beside the bed. Had she even gone home yesterday? If it was yesterday, and not the day before, or if this was tomorrow, or the day after. Flora carefully took stock of her situation. Her mouth was dry again, but nothing like it was before. She had intravenous lines running, and a damned catheter. Her hands were enclosed in squishy bags, and her head floated in some weird liquid, too, like she had a shower cap on. She remembered burning, but the worst of the heat hadn’t penetrated her uniform. It had saved her from a much greater horror. She was going to kiss Byerly Vorrutyer the next time she saw him. Those uniforms weren’t just for show, were they?

Everything was much clearer now, especially the memories. The purple popper had lit her up like the brandy on an Escobaran Christmas pudding. The smell of burning hair still seared her nostrils, or was she imagining that? Walton and Price had helped to extinguish the flames, And Marcus—

“Marcus?”

Fiona jerked awake. “What was that, honey?”

“Marcus. I want Marcus.”

“Oh.” Fiona didn’t say anything for a moment or two.

“What’s wrong? Is Marcus hurt, too?”

Fiona shushed her and ran a hand over her back. She kept her voice low. “Don’t get agitated. Marcus is fine. Are you sure you want to see him?”

“Yes, I want to see him.”

Fiona’s voice took on a dubious note. “Flora, he rescued Marie and let you burn. Why do you want to see _him_?”

“It wasn’t like that, Fi.” It was too hard to explain. Fi didn’t understand. Of course Marcus had rescued Marie. That was the plan. Walton had so nearly reached her in time, too. If only she’d hit Tarpan a bit harder he wouldn’t have been able to fire his plasma arc. It was her own fault. If only…

Fiona relented. “That’s OK, Flo, if you want to see him, I’ll tell him when he gets here. He just about lives in the visitors’ room. He’ll be bringing Dr Wrachmann for his shift in about half an hour or so.”

She must have slept again. The room was bright and there were flowers on the other side of the plexiglass window to the visiting area. They were calla lilies, coral and white. _Oh!_

__

“Hello.”

__

Her eyes widened. _Marcus_. She forgot for a moment and tried to turn her head too quickly. “Ow!” It was hard to hear very well through all the goop on her ears but she thought she just caught a sharp intake of breath. His eyes looked very bright suddenly behind the faceplate of his isolation suit, until he blinked away the moisture. That wasn’t right. He shouldn’t be crying over her. “Snot’s the very devil when you’re in one of those things, Marcus. I wouldn’t advise blubbering. How long have you been there?”

__

He laid a hand on her shoulder. “An hour or so. I can stay until Dr Wrachmann comes off shift. He’s taking really good care of you.”

__

“Thank you for getting him back.”

__

“Flora—” She watched the play of emotions across his face as he gazed at her. The most obvious one was guilt.

__

“Shh. It’s not your fault, Marcus. It was Tarpan’s fault. Everything was _his_ fault. How’s Marie? You got her out safely? That was your part in the raid.”

__

“Yes, she’s back in Vorbarr Sultana. The count has called in a counsellor for her, but I think she’ll be fine once she gets her cats back.”

__

“Prince Xav is still alive? I thought Tarpan killed him. Xav just about clawed his eyes out until Tarpan hit him. He’s the most excellent cat.”

__

“Xav’s got a sore head, down at the vet. Price is detailed to look after him. I reckon he’ll be good to go home tomorrow morning.”

__

Flora thought about that for a bit. “Are you detailed to look after me? It’ll take me a bit longer.”

__

“The count gave me leave for the duration, as long as I look after Dr Wrachmann. The doc says the main graft for your scalp is growing well.”

__

Fiona bustled through the automatic door. “Time for your obs and line checks, Flo. Armsman Fox can come back tomorrow.”

__

“Can’t he stay? Didn’t you just say you could stay, Marcus?”

__

Fiona was adamant “All kinds of no. I have to do unspeakable things to you. Darek could use some company, though, Armsman. He’s due for his hand graft tomorrow. After that heals we throw him out for good.”

__

Reluctantly, Armsman Fox stood up to leave. He gazed down at Flora, and then back up at Fiona. “I’ll be in the visitors’ room, or at that observation window. Does Sela Thorne know you’re here? It’s your liaison, after all.”

__

Fiona shook her head. “It’s all been _classified_ , for some reason. I don’t think anyone’s been told. Certainly no one at the Embassy.”

__

“I’ll tell Sela. It’ll be furious if it finds out later. It’d be really good for you when you came off duty if you didn’t want to talk to us Barrayarans. Walton tells me he’s the best of a bad lot at the moment, but you should have another Betan to talk to right now. Is there anything you want from the capital he can bring for either of you?”

__

“Apart from a ticket back to Beta, you mean?” Fiona shook her head but Flora was too smart to try anything so silly.

__

“All I want to do is sit up. I don’t see why I can’t. There’s nothing wrong with my butt or my back.”

__

Fiona pointed to the door. “Say goodbye to the armsman, Flo. You can discuss sitting up with Dr Wrachmann.”

__

Fox kissed his hand as best he could and trailed one gloved finger across Flora’s jaw to her lips. “I can take a hint. I’ve had sergeant majors who would blanch and run from Fiona. See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

__

Flora had done enough talking for one day, reluctant as she was to see Marcus go. She felt exhausted, _again_. It was all she could do to muster up a smile for him. When he moved out of her field of vision she closed her eyes again. Sleep, that’s what she needed. Fiona went through all the routine of observations and checking her lines and moving her position, turning her with the help of the grav bed to lie on her other side. Flora thought of asking, but she didn’t really want to know exactly how bad everything was. Her feet, at least, just felt numb, not painful. Her socks hadn’t been much use against the broken glass, but they’d saved her from anything worse than first and second degree burns there. She was still trying to work out how to put gamma argulase on her feet with her hands stuck in squishy bags when Fiona added more sedative to her fluid line. Now there was an idea. Marcus could make himself useful with the ointment. She drifted back to sleep dreaming of delicious foot rubs from her hulking great armsman.

__

 

__

Laughter was said to be the best medicine, but not when it hurt as much as this. Now that she could sit up for short stretches Flora had tears running down her face when Sela voiced its indignation at being the last to know about her injuries. Its worst complaints were reserved for what the isolation suit had done to its hair, though.

__

“Flat, Flora! Flat as a pancake. When I said nothing would be too much trouble on your behalf, I hadn’t bargained on this…this _outrage_. It’s an affront, I tell you. What if Byerly finds out? I’d never live it down.”

__

She tried to get a word in edgewise. “Have you heard from Byerly? Marcus said he’d gone to Komarr on business.”

__

Sela threw its hands up. “Not a word. I’ve learned not to ask, though. No news is good news. Gen—someone told me bad news is always delivered in person, but they won’t know where to find me if he gets himself into a situation and I’m not there to help. I can’t even remember if I locked the front door. I was in such a race to get here I forgot to pack my Olympian Dew. There won’t be any to be had for love nor money in this benighted town, either. I’m going to end up with wrinkles. I just _know_ I am.”

__

“I’m really very grateful, Sela. It was lovely of you to come all this way just for me.”

__

“I’m very happy to do anything for you, Flora, and Fiona as well. She’s helping with Darek’s procedure right now, but she’s still pretty angry about everything.”

__

Flora sighed. “I know. It wasn’t anybody’s fault apart from Tarpan’s. I don’t know why she’s still so upset with everyone.”

__

Sela’s gorgeous blue eyes twinkled through its mask. “I’ll talk to her. I’m sure I can set her straight. We need that sexy armsman of hers to distract her. I do believe he’s trying. I should suggest some ways he could try harder.”

__

Flora laughed again. “Ow. Stop _doing_ that! Walton doesn’t need your help.”

__

“Doesn’t want my help, perhaps. I think every Barrayaran I’ve ever met is in dire need of my help. Maybe not Count Voralys. He seems to get along just fine. Countess Voralys probably doesn’t need any help, either. She has a wonderful imagination. Perhaps I can read one of her books out loud for you to pass away the time. Would you like that? Or you could get _your_ armsman to read for you. Wouldn’t that be something to see?”

__

The mind boggled. The very thought of Marcus reading aloud from _Lord Vorperil’s Dungeon_ gave Flora such a fit of the giggles Sela had to wipe her eyes for her.

__

When she could finally talk she waved a hand in its direction. “Just imagine this is a finger wagging at you. Don’t you dare suggest such a thing. You know he’d try and do it, and he’d just die of embarrassment.”

__

“He’d do anything for you, wouldn’t he? It’s so very sweet to see how madly he’s in love with you. Are you going to marry him?”

__

That sobered her up. “Fiona wants to go back to Beta.”

__

“That wasn’t the question I asked you. What do _you_ want to do?”

__

“I don’t think I could go back to Beta. I’ve got used to the open sky and I’ve made friends here. You’re not going back to Beta, are you?”

__

Sela’s eyes misted over. “My home is where Byerly is, or where he should be if he hadn’t gone haring off like he did.”

__

Sela didn’t press the point, but the seed was sown. If Flora did go back to Beta, what would she do? How long would it be before the ceilings started pressing in on her again? How long would it be before she stopped missing Marcus? _That_ was the question, although she knew the answer. She’d never stop missing him. She’d never stop missing her sister, either, if she did stay and Fiona left. She’d have to think about it later.

__

With Sela to keep her entertained and Marcus to keep her company when all she wanted to do was rest and not have to think too hard, the days passed until her graft was ready. Dr Wrachmann came to talk to her about it.

__

“How do you feel about tomorrow, Flora? We’ll use the mesher to contour the graft to fit exactly. I’ll need to do a separate operation for your left ear, but the right is going to heal on its own. You should be able to leave ICU in about three days and talk to everyone face to face. I can’t guarantee your hair will sit exactly the way it used to, but once it’s grown it shouldn’t be too far off. Only you and maybe Fiona will be able to tell the difference.”

__

“I can’t wait. I know you’ll do a brilliant job, Doctor.”

__

“ _I_ can’t wait until you’re back on your feet. I missed you when we did Darek’s hand. Fiona’s good, of course, but the two of you together make such a brilliant team.”

__

He adjusted what Flora could only think of as her shower cap, easing its position just a fraction away from the scar line. He laid his slender hand on her forehead when he finished. “Only one more night to put up with the itching. You’ve been a model patient, you know. Wally says you haven’t thrown _anything_ at him.”

__

Flora held up her hands, still in their dressing bags. “Only because I can’t. Are these really that bad?”

__

“Not as bad as you think, actually. It’s a new protocol I’m testing, with gamma argulase added to the normal gel medium. When they finally do come off you might not need any further treatment at all. It was critical on there being no infection, and thanks to your excellent first aid and even more excellent trauma treatment in Emergency there hasn’t been a trace of any. You haven’t spiked anything more than point five of a degree all the way through. I’ll see you tomorrow to explain the procedure, but really it’s just like stapling a swimming cap to your head.”

__

“With micro-staples. Hundreds of them.” Flora had seen similar procedures before. He made it sound very easy. It was a shame she knew differently.

__

Marcus was a lot more jittery that afternoon than she’d seen him since the first visit. He was nervous for her. She looked at him more closely. No, he was _terrified_ for her.

__

“Hey, it’s supposed to be you reassuring me, you know. Everything is going to work out just fine. You know how good Dr Wrachmann is. What are you so scared of?”

__

“He said there’s a two percent chance of complications. That’s two too many as far as I’m concerned.”

__

Squishy bag or not, she took hold of his hand. It felt strange through the gel and two layers of mediplas, but it didn’t hurt. “You know what’s going to be the best thing about getting out of here?”

__

“You get to breathe fresh air again?”

__

“That will be nice. Apparently there’s rain and even snow. Sela told me. I’ve never seen snow, you know. He said Winterfair is magical. No, that’s not going to be the best thing. Want to guess again?”

__

“You can take yourself to the toilet?”

__

She felt like swatting him. “No! I’m not denying that’s going to be fantastic, but it’s hardly romantic, is it?”

__

“Oh.” His eyes glinted. “You have something romantic in mind? We get to hold hands properly?”

__

“You think holding hands is romantic? Sela is right. You Barrayarans desperately need its help.”

__

“I get to kiss you again? I’m holding out for that one.”

__

“Now you’re getting warm.”

__

He smiled at her. There was a hint of desire in that lazy smile all of a sudden. “I get to rub that gamma argulase stuff all over you, not just your feet? And kiss you at the same time?”

__

Flora found herself a little short of breath. “Both of those are excellent ideas. I thought we might go to Rotherhall for a couple of days, and stay at that nice inn. What was it called? _The Black Sheep?_ I could go and visit my namesake out at the farm, and we could try all of your suggestions in complete privacy.”

__

“Aha. You want privacy. I can understand that. It’s the last thing you have in a hospital. I’d be there, though, if I’m allowed a replacement to bodyguard Dr. Wrachmann. Walton could do it. He wouldn’t mind.”

__

It was her turn to smile. “You’re finally getting the message. I don’t want privacy _from_ you. I want it _with_ you.”

__

Marcus slowly nodded his head. “Yes, ma’am, what ever you want. I have strict instructions. Now that the count has his little boy cooking up in the replicator he wants everybody else to be as happy as he is. A holiday is a good start.”

__

“He has? When did this happen? Not even Sela has told me about that.”

__

“It was on his birthday, just like the countess wanted. You missed the District holiday for the count’s birthday. It was ten days ago. It hasn’t been publicly announced, not like the Crown Prince, but the armsmen know, of course.”

__

Just how long had she been in here, anyway? Obviously more than ten days. Surely not weeks? Not that it really mattered. “What else have I missed?”

__

“Not much, actually. The whole Cetagandan flap has died away until next time. Lord Vorkosigan nearly died, but he’s going to recover. The count was beside himself with worry over that, and the emperor too, seeing as how they’re cousins. No one has heard from Byerly Vorrutyer yet on Komarr. Sela is pretending it’s not worrying so it’s turned Fiona into a project instead. So far it’s Fiona one, Sela nil, but it’s lining up for another shot. Walton is backing it up. Darian’s trial is coming up next week. That’ll be a formality. He’s just wasting air at the moment. The three Voranson armsmen aren’t going to be tried on capital charges. They’ll get to go home to their families eventually.”

__

“Now you’ve lost me again. Who were they?”

__

By the time Marcus had finished explaining the tangle it was time for him to take Dr Wrachmann back home. If he’d set out to deliberately distract her from the coming operation he’d done a damned good job, she thought. Her head ached more from trying to sort out the relationships and the web of intrigue, vengeance and retribution than it did from the burns on her scalp.

__

 

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__

 

__


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flora is finally on the mend, and the family is very grateful for what she did.

 

Fox popped the ground car’s canopy for Dr Wrachmann and waited with tamped-down impatience for him to exit. He wanted to pick the good doctor up and race him through the corridors as fast as his feet could carry them both. On day three after Flora’s operation she was moving to the open ward with no more isolation suits and no more barriers. _At last_.

Dr Wally followed Wrachmann out of the ground car and gave Fox the shade of a wink. “Big day, Fox.”

“Yes, Doctor. I’m sure Miss Flora will be very relieved to be out of isolation. It all looks to be going very well from a layman’s point of view.”

“And mine, too. The count and I are both very happy with our choice of specialist. Nobody could have done a better job. I’d need to be twenty years younger to even try.”

“We all owe him, don’t we, sir?”

Dr Wrachmann must have ears like a bat. “You can buy my wife a bunch of flowers when she gets here, Fox.” He grinned over his shoulder. “You appear to have excellent taste, if what I’ve seen you produce for Flora is an example.”

Fox shook his head. “No, Doctor. Armsman Walton is the man you want for that. He’s had lessons from the best so I usually get him to pick for me. It’s very good news that your wife is on the way, though. Have you heard from her?”

“Yes, she’s booked berths on the _Princess Olivia_ , leaving in three days’ time. It’s always easier to get berths on the _Olivia_. Some people won’t travel on her any more, but lightning, or a space pirate, doesn’t strike twice. She’ll be perfectly safe. The worst she’ll have to worry about is keeping our daughters entertained.”

Fox looked at Dr Waleska. His experience of the _Princess Olivia_ had been anything but a happy one. Wally just returned him a bland look and changed the subject. “Do you want to wait in the ward, Fox? It’ll only take us half an hour or so to run Flora’s checks and wheel her out. I’ll get Fiona to show you through. Walton brought her in for her shift over an hour ago.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll do that.” Fox waited for the two of them to disappear along the corridor before nipping back to the ground car to extract another bunch of flowers from the boot. The choice was becoming limited with winter fast approaching, but he thought the cream and bronze chrysanthemums went well with the autumn-tinged oak leaves the florist had cleverly fixed to stems to add contrast. Perhaps Walton’s lessons were rubbing off on him after all.

Fiona rolled her eyes when she saw them. He could see what see was thinking. _Honestly, men. They think flowers fix everything._ She said nothing, just showed him to the room where Flora was going to be transferred and left him to it. There was a shelf with a couple of empty vases, so he filled in the time arranging and rearranging the blooms until he heard voices in the hall.

 _Flora_. She looked so small, sitting in the float chair, her head wreathed in pressure dressings. There were dark shadows under her eyes, but the expression in them as she caught sight of him told him all he wanted to know.

“Marcus.” She held out her arms. Fox flicked an anxious, inquiring look at Dr Wrachmann, who only shrugged and tilted his head in a _go for it_ motion. He didn’t need a second invitation. He surged down on one knee to slide his arms around her.

“Flora!” It was so _good_ to hold her again. He could feel the tears standing in his eyes, but there was no way he was going to upset her now. “Look at you! No goop anywhere.” He could feel her clutch at his back as she pressed close. “Be careful. Don’t hurt you hands again.”

Fiona pulled back the sheets on the bed. “Don’t let me interrupt you, but Flora has more visitors coming. She needs to be presentable.”

Fox pulled back a little to see Flora’s expression. It wasn’t all that friendly. “Fi’s going to be sorry for all this bossing me around she’s been doing. I swear—eek! Put me down!”

“Too late.” All he’d had to do was slide one hand down and push back up to his feet again and she was in his arms. He could feel a grin spread across his face as he whirled her around in a full circle. “I’ve got you now. What if I never put you down again?”

He heard her sharp intake of breath and felt his own catch in return. His arms tightened a little more. When she finally did breathe out it was hot against his neck. The awareness between them flared from a spark to raging fire in less than a heartbeat. “I can’t think of anything better.”

Reluctantly he lowered her into the bed and pulled the sheets up around her. There were too many people in the room for him to drive right in beside her. “We might have to discuss that later.”

His wristcom pinged, as did Wally’s. Fox glanced at it. “The count’s shuttle has just landed. They’ll be detouring here before they head for the District House. I need to go meet them at the entrance. Harper tells me Lady Marie has been nagging her Da to death to come and visit you. Would you excuse me, please?”

Flora had settled herself. “Of course. Oh, and Marcus?”

“Yes? Can I get you something?”

“Thank you for the flowers.” She blew him a kiss. “They’re beautiful, as always.”

He grinned again. “I chose them myself this morning. I think I’m getting the hang of it at last. Be right back.”

Fox sprang to attention as the big ground car sighed to a halt outside the main entrance. Count Voralys hadn’t just brought Lady Marie. His wife was with him, plus Lady Alys and Simon Vorillyan. It was more like a delegation. Harper, Price and Driscoll were there too, squeezed into the front. He popped the canopy and handed the countess out in the count’s wake. The formality was somewhat spoiled when Marie dived out to clutch him in a huge hug.

“Markie! I’ve missed you so much. Prince Xav is all better now, except he sicked up on the breakfast table this morning.” She lowered her voice. “I think Harper was cross with him.”

Count Voralys laughed at him over her head. “In other words, everything is back to normal, Fox. It’s good to see you.”

The count looked more relaxed than Fox had seen him in a long while. The countess was full of smiles, too. Even Simon Vorillyan’s mouth curved upwards, just a little. He’d still scanned the building and surrounds in every direction, though, before he assisted his wife out the ground car.

Marie pulled at his hand. “C’mon, Markie, I need to go see Miss Flora. I drew her a picture.”

Harper handed it across to him. Flora was unmistakeable, complete with luxurious auburn hair cascading across her shoulders. He felt a sharp pang of grief looking at it. “It’s a wonderful picture, Lady Marie.” He glanced at the count. “You know Miss Flora hurt her head, don’t you?”

He saw the quick nod. She knew, then. The count confirmed it. “Marie isn’t going to be surprised that Miss Flora has bandages on her head. She knows she has to be careful not to run, too.”

Wally had waited to meet them, too. He indicated the door. “Shall we all go see her, then?”

Marie didn’t let go of his hand. Fox fell in behind the count and countess at Lady Alys’s nod, with Price and Harper bringing up the rear while Driscoll stayed with the ground car. He glanced down at his little charge as they walked along the corridors. Marie had been terrified of hospitals not so long ago. She held on tight to his hand, but he could see her determination shining through. She was such a little trooper, wasn’t she?

They crowded into Flora’s room somehow. Harper and Price peeled off to guard the door. Wally headed for his office once he’d seen them in, leaving Fox to move to the far side of the bed and stand beside Flora’s head next to Fiona. The count shook Dr Wrachmann’s hand before bending down to formally kiss Flora’s hand and cheek. “I’m so relieved to see you on the mend, Mademoiselle Dunbar. Marie wanted to say hello, and thank you, as do we all.”

Wrachmann excused himself. Flora mustered up a bright smile for Marie, and held out her arms. “Hello Sweetheart! How lovely to see you again.”

Marie managed to walk a whole two steps before rushing the last three to throw herself on Flora.

“Oof!”

“Ma-rie!” Four adult voices all rose in simultaneous protest as Lady Alys, Simon, Countess Raine and Count Voralys spoke in chorus. The count tried to pick her up. “Marie! What did we tell you? I’m so sorry, Mademoiselle.”

“No, no.” Flora waved him away and pulled Marie up onto the bed beside her. “Marie and I are just fine. Aren’t we, honey?”

“I brought you a picture, Miss Flora.”

She produced the slightly battered painting for Flora’s inspection. “See? Here’s you, and me, and Prince Xav climbing out the window.”

Fox saw Flora’s hesitation before she forced a smile to her face. “So it is. That was a scary time for us, wasn’t it? He’s a very clever cat and I’m so glad he got better.”

“So am I, and Da says that bad man got what he deserved.” Marie’s little face screwed up with a ferocious frown. “I’m glad. It serves him right. He was really mean.”

“He’s not worth worrying about, Darling. Let’s just forget him, shall we?”

Marie nodded her head until the curls flew, then stuck out her hand. “It’s a deal.”

Solemnly, they shook on it.

Countess Raine came forward. “Marie, shall we go and find Da Belka? He’s going home tomorrow, but I’m sure he’d like to see us. Your Da needs to talk to Miss Flora now.”

Marie sighed and rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mama. ’Bye, Miss Flora. Get well soon.”

Raine picked up Marie off the bed and hugged her tight before setting her down. “Thank you, Flora. You don’t know—” She broke off, choked with emotion, just smiling through her sudden tears, blinked away as best she could.

They waited until the door closed behind Marie and let out a collected sigh of relief. Simon Vorillyan spread his hands. “She means well. I hope she didn’t hurt you.”

“No, of course not. She’s a real breath of fresh air.”

“I think so too. I’ll go and help Raine and leave you to talk to my son-in-law. You have all my thanks that I can still do that, Mademoiselle. I am eternally in your debt and at your service.”

No one was in any doubt that he meant every word he said. Flora could only nod her thanks as he too, slipped out of the room. The count pulled up a chair for his mother to sit by the bed. Lady Alys took hold of Flora’s hand.

“You’ve been grievously injured in the service of my family, my dear Flora. I’m so very sorry for it. The Vorpatril family trust would like to acknowledge your sacrifice with a reward.”

Fox had to suppress a smile. Flora looked nearly as horrified as Walton had been when everyone, including the emperor, had pressed rewards on him.

“That’s really not necessary. It all happened by accident, Lady Alys.”

Lady Alys glanced at her son. “We thought you might refuse. What I propose is the family endow a nursing scholarship in your name, at New Sheffield School of Medicine.”

She could only stammer and glance wildly at her sister. “That’s…that’s wonderful, isn’t it, Flo? What do you think?”

Her sister shrugged. “It’s better than having a _horse_ named after you, at any rate.”

“Trust you, Fi. It’s a wonderful honour.” Flora turned back to Lady Alys. “I’m very humbled, ma’am. Thank you very much indeed.”

“Good, that’s settled. Ivan will let you know the other details. You’ll come back to the District House, of course, once you’re discharged. We all want to make sure you continue to receive the best of care.” With a little press of her hand Lady Alys rose to go. Fox leapt from his place to hold the door open for her. She gave him a cool smile as she sailed out.

“Is she for real?” It was Fiona asking, of course. The count didn’t take offence. “Mamère is in a class all of her own. She’s terrified me for years.”

He took the newly-vacated seat. “Now, as to other matters. Tarpan was a fugitive, He was wanted dead or alive. The Imperium is in your debt, Flora, as well as my family.”

“Is the emperor going to give her a medal, then? That’ll fix her right up.” Fox winced at Fiona’s tone, but the count had obviously been briefed about Fiona’s aggression.

“No, actually. Between us we’ve had a much better idea. The emperor has just seized some abandoned property found in a warehouse near the shuttleport. He’s going to be donating a hundred uterine replicators to a new clinic to be establishing here in New Sheffield. Should the need arise, both the Dunbar sisters and their partners will have unlimited access for free, as many times as you want.”

Fox couldn’t have heard that quite right. The emperor, or was it the count, was going to pay for Flora to have her children? Who’d thought up _that_ little wrinkle? He could see by the look on her face it had caught her completely by surprise.

“And no parenting licenses needed on Barrayar, either,” the count added. “You can have six if you want. You can have a whole troop if you want.”

“Em…er… please thank the emperor very much from me, the next time you see him. That was very thoughtful of him.”

“It won’t do you any good, Flo, will it?” Fiona wasn’t impressed. “We only have six weeks of our contract remaining. The emperor should have given you a first class ticket home. That might have been useful.”

Count Voralys hadn’t finished. “That’s settled my family’s and the emperor’s expressions of gratitude. It’s done nothing personal for you, however, Mademoiselle. There was a considerable sum of money, and an even more considerable accumulation of other valuables found in that warehouse. I propose to do two things with it.” He saw Flora open her mouth to object. “No, hear me out, please. Rotherhall badly needs more accommodation. I’m planning a new development, strictly in the old style, of course, just off the square behind the Town Hall. There’s going to be a row of cottages, to be called Armsman’s Row, actually, quite by coincidence. They’ll eventually be used as grace and favour accommodation as my armsmen retire, but I’m also going to place one of them at your disposal for your lifetime. I thought one with four bedrooms. Would that suit? If you choose not to occupy it any income generated from rentals would be transferred to your account. Mademoiselle Fiona, another cottage will be available for you, too. It’s the least I can do after all your distress these past weeks.”

“You said two things.” Flora looked at the count suspiciously. “What else have you got up your sleeve, sir?”

He smiled. Everyone knew his smile was irresistible to women. There was always a first time, Fox thought as he watched the two sisters.

“Your salary, Flora. It will be paid until your death. Indexed to inflation, of course. I’ll get Philip to set up the necessary account. No strings attached on that one even if you do go back to Beta, which I _sincerely_ hope you won’t. I need my armsmen to be happy in their work, and I need Dr Wrachmann to have the best team around him. I’ve confirmed him as a permanent appointment here, and he’s happy to stay, what’s more. Not even ImpSec has put him off. He’s asked for the two of you specifically. Think about it, please, both of you.”

He changed the subject suddenly. “Enough of business. You must be exhausted. There’s some other news. Sela finally heard from Byerly. He’s been getting up to mischief on Komarr, but you’ll never believe what’s happened. General Allegre, he’s the head of ImpSec, you may remember, sent Anton Vorberg up there to help him. Anton’s only gone and got himself _married_ , if you can believe that.”

Fox blinked in astonishment. “Vorberg, married? That’s a bit sudden, isn’t it, sir? He’s not very old.”

“He’s twenty-three standard. You’d better believe it, _and_ she’s the daughter of a Jacksonian baron, to boot. They’re all on their way back to Barrayar. I can’t wait to hear the story. Byerly told Sela it’s _complicated_ and to wait for the explanations when he gets home.”

Flora looked to be wilting, but she rallied. “Is Byerly safe? Sela has been so worried, especially now that they’re going to be parents.”

“Byerly’s like a cat. He always lands on his feet. It was a bit of a close call this time, from what I can gather, but he’s got the information we needed to close the net on the last of the conspirators. He’ll be home in about four days. Sela’s hoping to go back to Vorbarr Sultana and meet him, if you can spare it for a few days. I said I’d ask.”

Flora didn’t have any objections. “Oh, certainly! Sela’s been so good. It’s almost like a second sibling. Not as close as a twin, of course, but I can tell it anything.”

She yawned suddenly. “Oh, excuse me.”

The count rose to his feet. “You’re still not well. I’ve overstayed my welcome, and you’ve got an awful lot to think about. I’ll leave you to Fiona’s and Fox’s capable hands.” Count Voralys kissed her hand again before turned to go.

Fox held the door open for him. The count paused as he went out. “I’ll see you back at the house, Fox. I Know Harper has a few things he wants to discuss with you.”

“Of course, sir.” Fox had been allowed to neglect his first duties for too long. Dr Wrachmann didn’t need close supervision, and Flora was on the downhill slope to recovery. It was time to get back to work. He sent Driscoll a head’s up that the visit was finished. By the time he turned around again, Flora’s eyelids were drooping and Fiona had one of those looks on her face.

“That was emotional blackmail if ever I’ve seen it. Did you put them up to all that?”

“ _What_? No, of course not. I had no idea what they’d got planned, but that’s the Vor for you. They’re crazy about their kids for one, and they take obligations very, very seriously for two.”

“Flora needs to rest. This has all been far too much for her.”

He looked at Flora, fast asleep on her pillow. All of a sudden he was tired of Fiona and her constant belligerence. Yes, this had been hard on her, but nothing compared to what Flora had been forced to endure. “She’s way ahead of you, Fiona. I’ll sit here a while. Don’t let me keep you.” He appropriated the chair, and stretched out his legs. “I won’t disturb her. I do have her best interests at heart, you know. If she _really_ wants to go back to Beta I won’t stand in her way, but I’m not going to let her sacrifice what she actually wants for _your_ insecurities.”

Fiona had enough control not to scream at him. Her whisper was venomous, and laced with pain. “She’s my sister! She nearly died, and _you_ let it happen. I’ll never, ever forget that.”

It hadn't been like that, but he was never going to convince her. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but my first concern is how Flora feels about it all. I’m not going to burden her with making decisions until she’s recovered, and I don’t think _you_ should be putting pressure on her, either.”

“I have work to do.” Fiona stomped off. Anywhere else she’d have slammed the door.

Fox sighed as he settled back to watch Flora sleep.

 


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flora finally gets to leave hospital

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It looks like there'll be one more chapter after this one, and maybe an epilogue, too.

 

Flora’s eyes flickered open. Something was different and for a confused moment or two she couldn’t work out what it was. The flowers were close by. Was that it? No, not just that. There was _no glass_ between her and them.

“Oh!” She sat up in a big hurry, ignoring the sudden throb in her head. She was out of isolation! That was right, and Marcus…

“Hello sleepyhead.”

She’d looked to the wrong side of the bed. There he was, not half a metre away. Her heart thumped into her throat as she reached for him.

“Hey, be careful! You’ll fall out of bed.” Marcus surged forwards to catch her and she ended up tumbled into his arms.

“I remember now. I’m out at last.”

“And we don’t want you in the fracture ward, do we?”

She could feel the rumble of his voice, and smell the scent of his skin under his ear. It was soft and silky on her lips. He turned his head a little, until his lips met hers. That was better. Everything was going to be fine, now. Except…

She pulled back. “Marcus, I really need to go to the bathroom.”

“What a treat for you.” He picked her up like a feather and deposited her at the door to the tiny cubicle. “Can you manage?”

It did feel strange to be standing up. Her feet were numb rather than painful; quite manageable really, but this was only the first challenge. “Certainly. I’ll yell if I get stuck.”

“Don’t lock the door, will you?”

He looked so concerned. It was sweet. It had been years since anyone other than Fiona had cared about her welfare. But what bliss, to use the bathroom like a normal person again. Flora let the water run over her hands afterwards, luxuriating in the delicious coolness.

“You all right in there?”

“Spoilsport.” Reluctantly she came back out. “I was having fun. The only thing better is going to be having a shower.”

Marcus looked at her. There was a devil behind his eyes, she could see. His expression was positively wicked. This standing up was dangerous. She began to feel just a little bit light-headed.

“I can think of something else that might be fun. Isn’t it time for your gamma argulase? Sit on the bed and I’ll do it for you.”

He took his time about it, too, resting her foot on his lap, rubbing the oily cream onto first one, and then the other, his thumbs working magic on the soles of her feet. Not content with that he moved on to her hands. This was getting dangerous. Her breathing quickened. “I can do that myself, you know. I’m quite capable.”

“I’m sure you can, but it’s so much nicer sharing, don’t you think?”

He was a wicked, wicked man. “What are you smiling about, Marcus? You’ve got a big, goofy grin on your face.”

He tried to look serious, but it didn’t work. The smile peeped out again. “I’m just so happy, Flora. I’m happy that you’re getting better and I’m happy that you don’t hate me.”

Oh, was he still worried about that? “I don’t hate you, Marcus. I could never hate you. None of this was your fault.”

He looked genuinely rueful for a moment. “ _Fiona_ still hates the whole lot of us.”

“I’ve seen that. She’s said as much to me, but I don’t really know why. I think it might be disappointment. She was beginning to think that Barrayar was like a fairy tale, but it turned into a nightmare. Don’t worry. I’ll talk to her.”

“I think it’s Walton who’s worried. He’s terrified she’s going to leave him.”

“What, after he saved my life? You’d have thought she’d have more gratitude that that.”

The woman herself walked in with a lunch tray. They both stopped to look at her. She put the tray on the adjustable table and her hands on her hips. “Well, you pair look guilty. What have you two been up to? Talking about me again?”

Flora admitted it. “Well, yes, actually, Fi. We’re worried about you.”

“Worried about _me_? You don’t need to worry about me. Marcus shouldn’t be upsetting you like this. You’ve had enough upsets to last a lifetime. You’ll have to leave, Marcus, if you’re going to distress Flora.”

Flora reached over to grab Marcus’s arm as he started to rise. “Stay right there. He’s not upsetting me. Don’t be so quick to judge, Fi. I’ve got eyes to see for myself, haven’t I? You’re on a real knife edge. There’s no need to be, you know. I was there and I know what happened. Hasn’t Adrian told you? He must have. He saved my life and I’m so grateful to him.”

Fiona looked like she hadn’t heard her right. “Oh, OK. I can be _grateful_ to Adrian, too. Thank you for setting me straight. You eat your lunch, and I’ll go and count my blessings.” She turned on her heel and marched out.

“Fiona? Fi, don’t be like that!” Flora was talking to the empty air. Dismay warred with exasperation. “She’s been so good to me, Marcus, all the time I was sick. It’s only now I’m better that’s she’s letting go like this. It’s my fault.”

Marcus didn’t comment, but his face was a picture of incredulity. He moved the table over the bed where she could reach it. “You’re still sick, in case you haven’t noticed. You’ve also got one more procedure to go, too, don’t forget. You eat your lunch and don’t worry about Fiona. You need to keep up your strength.”

 

Now that she was getting better the days began to drag. With the count and his family in town Marcus had more responsibility, swapping out bodyguard duties with the other armsmen. He only sat with Flora a couple of hours a day, and she suspected he used his off-duty time to do it, too. He was there when she had her pressure dressings taken off and again when she woke up after the procedure to repair her ear. Marcus had to fight down his emotion when he saw her. The most obvious one was guilt, not matter what she tried to tell him. He was a puzzle, this man. It might take her years to work him out. She’d never met such a kind and considerate person, and yet he habitually wore his stunner on one hip and a plasma arc on the other without a second thought. He’d use them, too, without hesitation. She knew that. He was never anything other than perfectly polite to Fiona, and her behaviour was enough to try a saint, it really was.

Flora only took a day to get over her final procedure. Dr Wrachmann was a certified genius. There was hardly any swelling, and her fuzz of auburn curls hid anything even remotely resembling scars. In time, no-one would ever know. She didn’t really want to think about her hair, and what it had been like. She needed something to do to take her mind off it. She was restless…

Fiona found her in the office. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Flora?”

She refused to feel guilty. “I’m not crippled or anything, Fi. I can sit at a desk and do paperwork. I’m going to go mad lying around all day. I see we’ve got those four service patients coming in next week. You’ll need all the help you can get then.”

“That’s next week, and you haven’t been discharged yet, don’t forget. I can manage.”

Flora looked at her sister. She didn’t reply for a moment and saw Fiona’s eyes flicker. She spoke quietly. “No, Fi, you can’t manage. You never really got over that refinery explosion, and now you’re trying to do two jobs at once. You’re not a superwoman.”

Fiona didn’t attack back, which was a sure sign she’d hit home. Instead, she shifted from one foot to another. “It’s this place, Flo, or rather the people in it. They’re savages. Look—”

“No, Fi, they’re not. Tarpan wasn’t even Barrayaran. They’re no better or worse than anywhere else, and this is the most beautiful planet. It’s way nicer than Beta.”

Fiona’s eyes filled with tears. “How can you even _say_ that, after what happened?”

Flora sighed. “What happened was truly awful, but it wasn’t the people we know and love who caused any of that grief. I _know_ you grieved for me, Fi. Your grief and anger are still clouding your judgement. I love Marcus. If he asks me, I’m going to stay here. I _want_ to stay here.”

“ _Stay_?”

“Yes, stay here, on Barrayar. I’m certain of it.”

Fiona looked ready to panic. “Flora, I don’t think I can stay here. Every day is a reminder. Thesemen coming in next week—”

“Need our help. It’s the job we came here to do. _I’m_ not running away.” She didn’t say _again_ , or _this time_ , but Fi would know what she meant.

“It seems like you’ve made your decision.” There was defeat now in Fiona’s voice. It shouldn’t have to be like this. It wasn’t a win-lose situation. It should be a four way win.

“Fi, I’m going to ask Dr Wrachmann, and Dr Waleska, _and_ Count Voralys, if you can have a weekend off with Adrian, and go and stay in Rotherhall at that lovely hotel. Stay longer, if you want to. You need a break. I’ve had mine, sort of, lying around in bed like this. I can cope with the preliminaries for these servicemen.”

Once she’d begun to crumble, Fiona just collapsed. She sat down heavily. “Adrian won’t want to come. I’ve been horrible to him, Flo, really horrible.”

“You’re short changing him. Wait and see what Adrian wants to do. One thing I have learned about Barrayarans is they’re loyal to a fault. He’ll jump at the chance. You just wait and see.”

It was more of an enormous leap than a jump. There was no problem with the armsmen’s roster. All three of Adrian’s shifts over the weekend were covered without him even having to ask. The doctors waved Fiona away gladly, and slightly less gladly agreed to discharge Flora, but only with strict instructions to rest over the weekend. Wally went so far as to shake a finger at her.

“ _No_ work. No undue exertion, and don’t think I’m not going to tell Fox the exact same thing, just to be clear you know what I mean, and bed _rest_. No gallivanting off to the park, or shopping, or whatever else you can think of. If we weren’t going to be under the same roof as you there’s no way we would let you out. Are we quite clear?”

Flora just nodded. “Yes, Doctor.”

“And take your meds.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Wally gave her a fulminating look. “I used to be able to charge my people with insubordination, you know.”

She had to crack a smile. “Yes, Doctor.”

“Have you got anything to pack? You can come back to the House with us tonight. I’ve got a dinner engagement but Akito will keep an eye on you.”

“Akito? Oh, Dr Wrachmann. I’ve only got my toothbrush, really, and the spare uniform Fiona brought in for me. Everything else has already been sent over to the District House, she said. I’ll go change. Be right back.”

She heard Dr Waleska faintly in the background. “Don’t go rushing around like that!”

Fox took a double take when he arrived at the hospital to escort Dr Wrachmann home. His face broke into a delighted smile. “Flora! They’re letting you out?”

She couldn’t help but smile back. “Yes. Isn’t it marvellous? With Fiona gone there’s no-one to look after me, though. You’ll have to do it.”

“Gladly. Can you walk, or do you need a float chair?”

“I’m walking.”

They walked slowly through the halls, Fox striding ahead to check the corridors and the exit. Flora had Wally at one hand and Dr Wrachmann at the other to escort her. Once they reached the portico, she stopped in astonishment. “Oh, it’s raining! How wonderful! Just look at it.”

Dr Wrachmann smiled. “I thought that the first day. You’ll soon get used to it. Hey—don’t you dare get wet!”

Flora had hurried out of the shelter to stand with her face turned up to the soft, fine drops. The sky had closed down on them, with sullen clouds darkening towards night.

“You get back in here. You’ve still got dressings on your ear.”

Reluctantly Flora did what she was bid. “It’s nothing like standing in a shower. I always imagined it must be.”

Wally just shook his head at her. “Oh, we get days like that, too, and worse, don’t we, Fox? Pouring rain, thunderstorms, sleet, snow, blizzards…”

She laughed. “I get the picture. I’ll just enjoy this while I can.” She held her hand out again for a few drops to fall on it before she followed the doctors and entered the ground car. Fox sat with her as Driscoll was driving. As they headed off into the evening air she felt his hand slip around hers. She squeezed back. “This is all so exciting.”

The District House was full of people, but there were cases in the hall. Lady Alys and Simon were on their way back to the capital and they’d stayed only long enough to greet her. The count was going with them too, but heading back the next day after he’d talked to the emperor. Harper, Sarmiento and Kosa completed the party. From what Flora could gather in the few minutes she saw them it was all something to do with Vorberg’s new bride and the extraordinary woman Byerly had brought from Komarr with her. It was a bit bewildering so she stopped trying to work it out and concentrated instead on what the countess had to say.

“I’ll just say goodbye to my husband, Flora, and then I’ll take you up to your room. It’s next door to Fiona’s but of course she’s not there just now. They’ve reached Rotherhall, Walton tell us. I don’t expect we’ll hear any more from them until they show up here again. I’ll be right with you.”

Marie finished saying goodby to her Da and Papi Simon and came over to show her Prince Xav and Princess, who were milling around her feet and demanding attention. “You’ve never met Princess, Miss Flora. She wanted to say hello, too. _She_ has good manners. She doesn’t sick up anywhere, much. Your hair is really short, isn’t it? Did they cut it all off? I love your curls.”

It wasn’t long until Countess Raine rescued her. By the time she reached the top of the first flight of stairs exhaustion had started to creep up on Flora again. Marie tended to do that to people, she realised. Short doses were the order of the day, until she’d got her strength and energy back. The countess noticed that she’d wilted.

“Here we are. You get to bed, and I’ll send Fox up with a tray of dinner for you. He can keep you company. Why don’t you watch a holovid or something, and rest up. Don’t worry about coming down for breakfast, either. I’m sure Fox will be only too happy to organise it for you. You don’t have to be on your best behaviour, you know, or anything like that. If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask.” She gave Flora a quick hug. “We’re all so glad you’re better.” The countess hesitated, but obviously came to a decision. “I’ll let you in on a secret. When I first got involved with Ivan and this madhouse I ran away screaming to Beta. Coming back was a really hard decision but honestly it’s the best thing I ever did. Ivan is worth all the rest of the irritations twice over. I think Marcus Fox is the same kind of man. I really hope you stay.”

She whirled out to go and find Marie to put her to bed. Flora sank on to her own bed, somewhat stunned. In a few minutes Marcus appeared to help her.

“You look ready to drop. Let’s get your pyjamas on, then I’ll go find you some food. I just came to ask what you want.”

“Marcus?”

He stopped fussing. “What’s up? Can I get you something?”

“Shut the door and come here. All I want is a cuddle right now.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. In five seconds flat the door was locked, the lights dimmed and they were stretched out together on the bed. She closed her eyes and sighed. “This is so much better.” She moved around a little, trying to find a comfortable place to rest her head, which was still tender, truth be told. Marcus solved the problem when he curled up behind her, and found a soft pillow for her to lay her head on, sore ear up.

“How’s that?”

“Just perfect. I’m so comfortable I don’t even want to take my boots off. You must be hungry, though. You should—”

“Shh. I can look after myself.” His voice came hesitantly. “This is all I want, too, except… There _was_ something I wanted to ask you.”

She started to turn, but he held her close. “No, stay there.” His breath felt warm on her neck. She relaxed back again.

“What did you want to ask?”

“Flora Selena Dunbar, will you marry me?”

“ _What_?”

“I’ve tried to ask you so many times. I wanted moonlight and flowers, but it never quite worked, and then you were hurt and now it’s raining.” His arms tightened again, before he forced himself to ease off. “That was _the_ most awful—I don’t even want to think about it. I can’t part from you, Flora. Please, please stay with me.”

“Let me turn over, you big idiot. Are you afraid to look me in the eye?” Flora struggled round to face him, sore ear be damned. He looked abjectly terrified. “Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes, I’ll stay with you. Yes, I’ll marry you. Yes, I love—”

Her lips stopped moving as he kissed her, until they started again of their own accord, tasting, feeling, nibbling at his mouth. Heat surged between them until Flora was left panting. Marcus drew away far too soon. He groaned. “Damned doctors.”

She had to suck in a deep breath. “Wally got to you, too, huh? He only said no undue exertion. I think a little bit of exertion is _well_ due. Overdue, actually. Weeks overdue.” She started to undo his shirt and batted her eyelashes at him. “Get those boots off. Be gentle with me.”

He let out a snort of laughter as he grabbed for her. “If you say so, ma’am. Gentle it is. In fact, I’ll lay back and let _you_ exert yourself just as much as you think right. Let me take _your_ boots off first, though.”

He was wonderfully, gloriously gentle. Flora almost wept with the joy of his hands on her body as she straddled him. His eyes looked black with desire as he gazed up at her. If there had been any last doubts they were swept away in the magnificent certainty that Marcus truly _loved_ her.

It was all over too soon. She tumbled forwards on top of him and nuzzled into his neck. “Let’s make a habit of that.”

Marcus didn’t reply straight away. Flora felt rather smug as he struggled for words.

“Cat got your tongue?”

He composed himself at last. “Please don’t mention those damned animals.” His hand ran down her back in a languid caress. “It’s definitely a habit I can get used to. I love you so much, Flora. You’ve made me so happy.”

“Grab the covers before you fall asleep. And don’t you dare tell me you have to report for duty, either.”

“Not until 0700. I wonder how Walton is getting on?”

“Fiona’s a bigger idiot than I thought if she lets him get away. I’m _not_ going to worry about Fiona now, though. I’m all worn out.”

“G’night, then. Sleep tight.”

“Good night, Gorgeous.”

He grabbed her hand and kissed it. Flora felt his lips curl up against her fingers as drowsiness started to overwhelm her. _So this is what home feels like_ …


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Sheffield is a bit of a backwater compared to events in Vorbarr Sultana.
> 
> Fiona finally begins to weaken, and to quote an old saying, Absence makes the heart grow fonder...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It looks like there'll be one more chapter after this one, and maybe an epilogue. There seem to be a lot of loose ends to tie up.
> 
> Please forgive the enormous liberties with both timeline and canon. I've removed about three years from the timeline. :)

 

Flora didn’t see Fiona again until they headed off to work at the start of the week. They must have got back from Rotherhall quite late the previous evening, after she’d gone to bed. Fiona didn’t say much about it, but the hard look around her eyes had definitely softened. Flora was bursting to tell her sister the news, but Marcus had gone all Barrayaran on her, insisting he ask the count for permission to marry first, before telling anyone. The blessed count had been _delayed_ in Vorbarr Sultana. He’d only come back late the previous night, like Fiona and Adrian. Marcus had just better catch up with him today, that’s all she could say.

Darek Belka was liaison for the servicemen who were going to be treated in the burns unit. He’d arrived ahead of the two of them and waited outside the office with an apprehensive man and his even more apprehensive wife. They probably hadn’t had much sleep the night before, even though all the families were comfortably installed in the Dower House with Ma Walton to look after them. Fiona switched to her best professional mode right before Flora’s eyes as she ushered them all inside to the comfortable interview room.

Darek made the introductions. “Good morning, Medtechs Dunbar. Miss Flora, and Miss Fiona, this is Jos Vasiliev and his wife Zoya. Ma Walton is minding their three children this morning so we can all talk.”

Jos was tall, with the look of an athlete about him, but he had deep lines around his eyes and mouth. He’d known what pain was, this man. He had burn scarring on the back of his neck up into his scalp, but his face was untouched. He didn’t look bad at all, nothing like Darek had been, but Flora changed her mind in a big hurry when she escorted him into the examination room and asked him to change into a gown for Dr Wrachmann. The livid, puckered scarring covered most of his back, ending in a straight line where his waistband must have been. _How very odd._ She knew from her own experience, and Darek’s, that their uniforms were a good protection against flames. She opened her mouth to ask about it when she saw Darek signalling to her behind Jos’s back. She smiled at the new patient.

“Are you warm enough? Here’s a blanket if you need it. Dr Wrachmann will be right in. I’ll just go and let him know you’re ready.” She squeezed his hand. “There’s not a single thing to worry about, Jos, I promise.”

They left Jos and Zoya to wait for the doctor. Darek pulled her to one side in the outer office. “Miss Flora, I know you’re all going to do your very best for Jos, but I don’t think you know exactly what happened.” He glanced around as the door opened, but it was only Fiona, who’d gone to take the notes through to the doctors. “Jos was on duty with Service Security when the explosion occurred. He was first on the scene with his squad. They weren’t the trained fire response crew but they pulled me out anyway. I was on fire, see, so he took off his own shirt to put me out. That’s when the second b—er flashover happened and he was burned too. He was hurt like that saving _me_. He’s never once said a word, won’t let me thank him, or anything. All he can say is he was doing his duty. It was more than that, ma’am, a hell of a lot more. I’m not allowed to talk about most of it. He should have got a medal and all they gave him was a medical discharge. They said it was his own fault, that he should never have taken his shirt off like that.”

Fiona had heard every word. Flora saw her turn a little pale, but she made no remark just then as Dr Wrachmann followed her into the room. He had the notes with him on a data pad. The two of them went into the examination room together. Flora looked at Darek’s troubled face.

“And the other three men?”

Darek swallowed. “They’re the rest of Jos’s squad. I was the only one to get out alive from the warehouse; I was closest to the door and ran in the right direction, somehow. There was no hope for the others; too much ordnance in the one place.”

It was a shocking story. No, it was a criminal negligence story, by the sound of it. “Someone must have been very careless. No doubt there was an inquiry?”

He looked more uncomfortable than ever. “No one was careless, ma’am.” He took a look around the room, like someone was listening. “It was deliberate. It’s classified. I shouldn’t say anything, but I don’t want you to think—”

That _he_ was careless? She knew him better than that. “Shh. I’m not thinking anything of the sort. We’re going to do our very best for Jos and his friends. Heroes deserve nothing less.”

“Don’t let on you know. It’ll only make him uncomfortable.”

“OK, I won’t. Have you told Count Voralys all this?” Mutely, he shook his head. “You should. In fact, I really want you to tell him. He’s such a good man he’ll find something for them to do afterwards. If Jos has a wife and three children he’ll need a proper job. With a Service Security background he could be a patroller, or—” she stopped, guilty at getting ahead of herself. Count Voralys was still short of armsmen. Marcus had been complaining about the very thing only yesterday. She could just see Jos Vasiliev as an armsman, but no doubt there were all sorts of pitfalls to that idea she knew nothing about.

“Just tell the count what you’ve told me. Jos didn’t hesitate to put his life on the line for you. Someone needs to do something about it and he’d be the very man.”

It took a couple of hours to run Jos through the body contour machine and the tissue matcher for his scalp and skin repairs. Flora joked a little with Zoya. She looked almost overwhelmed by the whole process.

“So Zoya, what’s _your_ preference? How hairy do you want him?”

“You can do that?” She asked, her startled gaze switching from Flora to Jos and back again.

“Sure. Whatever you want.”

Zoya made up her mind and reached out to take her husband’s hand. “I want him exactly as he was before,” she said in a firm voice. “No hair.”

By the time they’d finished the pair of them looked very much more relaxed and Flora was completely shattered. Her optimism about being ready to return to work was just a tad misplaced, she realised. She collapsed into a chair after Darek took the Vasilievs off to have lunch.

Fiona shook her head at her. Flora held up a weary hand to forestall the ticking off. “I know, I know. You were right and I was wrong. I’ll be better tomorrow.”

“You’d better be, or I’m going to snitch on you,” Fiona warned.

“Did you hear the whole story?” Flora asked, “How it wasn’t an accident?”

Fiona nodded. “Jos told Dr Wrachmann. He’s a very brave man, isn’t he?”

“What price savages, now? I don’t know how many Betans would do that, do you?”

Fiona bit her lip. “You’re right, of course, Flo. It takes some thinking about. Jos is going to need months of treatment. His graft will take weeks to grow, for a start. We can’t just leave him in the lurch, can we?”

Was she weakening? Flora hoped so. “I’m really looking forward to Winterfair. I’ve heard so much about it.”

“I suppose I could stay for Winterfair. I’m not promising I’m staying forever, Flo. I think I should give the place a second chance, though.”

Flora grinned at her. “That sounds like a good idea. While you’re in a charitable mood, do you mind fetching lunch? I need to put my feet up before I drop.”

The minute the door closed behind her sister Flora let out a whoop. She’d dance around the room if she had the energy. _Yes, yes yes!_

Marcus was in a very sombre mood when she saw him again that night. He hadn’t asked the count’s permission yet. He gave Flora a kiss and rested his forehead against hers for a moment.

“I’m sorry. It just didn’t work out. Something’s come up. It’s what delayed the count last night. Price will take you all to the hospital tomorrow morning. Harper, Walton and I have another duty.”

She drew back a little to look at him. “Is it something you can talk about?”

“No, honey. We should be back to normal by lunch time. How was your day?” He tried to turn the subject, but Flora watched his attention wander back to what was troubling him.

“Hey, you don’t have to put on an act for me, Marcus. What say we just watch a holovid down in the rec room. Do you think Adrian and Fiona would like to join us?”

He pulled himself together. “I’ll ask. I’m sure we’ve got something in the library that’s not shoot ‘em up space cowboys. What about a documentary on the battle of Vorhalasgrad? It’s only just out and I’m even in it. You can’t see me, though. I was inside a tank at the time.”

“That’s an alternative? You’d better have something a little more romantic than that! I’ll nip down to the kitchen and see if I can rustle up some popcorn.”

“Huh? What’s popcorn?”

She couldn’t have heard him right. “ _What_? I don’t believe it. I knew Barrayar was backward, but honestly, you’ve never had _popcorn_ before? What do you normally munch on when you watch a holovid?”

He grinned at her. “Beer.” He grinned some more. “Gotcha!”

“Oh, you!” She swatted at his arm. “Comedian, aren’t you?”At least she’d jolted him out of his mood. He managed a few wisecracks, too, on the subject of popcorn when she came back from the kitchen with a huge bowl full. It ended up being quite a group of them. Darek and Olga joined them, together with Fiona and Adrian and a few more of the off-duty armsmen. It wasn’t until the pair of them arrived back at the door to Flora’s room that the mood settled on him again.

He kissed her. “I might not come in tonight. I have to be up at 0300 and I don’t want to disturb you.”

Her hand on his shirt front as she hauled him inside changed his mind on that one. “No you don’t. You can set your alarm. I won’t mind.”

“Oh, OK then.” He didn’t protest too hard, she noticed. Not at all, in fact.

She didn’t notice when he left. She woke up in the morning to an empty bed and a piece of popcorn on the pillow. She had to smile when she saw it. What a romantic dope…

Fiona was equally in the dark about what was going on. Olga Belka was no better. “All I know is the count has a guest coming for lunch. Otherwise, no-one has said a word, apart from the guest likes cream cakes for dessert.”

“Curiosity killed the cat, I suppose,” Flora said, watching Prince Xav getting ready to pounce on Ma Belka’s ankle in the hopes of making her drop the bowl of cream she was preparing for the beater. Is that why Olga wore boots in the kitchen? Anyway, they had to go. Price had already brought the ground car around to the front door. They’d find out what was going on sooner or later.

There were more troops than usual in the square, Flora noticed. They weren’t Municipal Guardsmen, and they weren’t dressed in greens, either. She had to ask.

“Dr Waleska, who are these men? Price doesn’t seem worried, and neither do you, but I don’t recognised them.”

He didn’t quite meet her eye. _Something_ was going on. “They’re just Imperial troops. It might be some of the engineers over from Prestwich. That would explain the fatigues.”

“Oh, that’s what they are, fatigues? And engineers carry plasma rifles, do they?”

He kept his face very straight. “This _is_ Barrayar.”

_And you didn’t answer my question._ Flora let it go. She didn’t want Fiona getting spooked again. Wally obviously wasn’t worried about them, whoever they really were.

He changed the subject. “By the way, there’ll be a visitor this morning. I don’t know exactly what time. I’ll be showing him around. You don’t need to do anything differently except maybe answer a question or two. He’ll only be in the unit half an hour or so.”

Fiona took notice at last. “Will the count be with him? _He’s_ got a visitor this morning. It must be the same one.”

Wally just shrugged. “Possibly. We’ll have to wait and see. Ah…here we are. What do you Betans say? Another day, another dollar?”

Flora felt like muttering _be like that, then_ , under her breath. He knew damn well who was going to visit this morning.

When the little party did arrive at last, they were all dressed in the same black fatigues she’d seen earlier. Flora recognised Count Voralys straight away, handsome as ever. He’d be gorgeous in a sack, she decided. It was only when she looked past him to the visitor that her heart skipped a beat. She’d never seen him before, but she’d seen his picture a thousand times. It was on every currency note, for a start, not to mention in the foyer of the hospital _and_ in the District Offices, and on just about every news holovid programme and gossip programme. Tall and dark like the count, he was slimmer, with a lean face and serious hazel eyes. When he looked at her Flora’s heart started hammering in her chest.

The count introduced them. “Sire, may I present Medtech Flora Dunbar and her sister, Medtech Fiona Dunbar? Ladies, this is the Emperor of Barrayar, Gregor Vorbarra.”

_What to do?_ Was she supposed to curtsey, or kneel or something? All Flora managed was an awkward nod of her head before he reached out to shake her hand, and then Fiona’s. His smile was so unexpected and so genuine she relaxed at once.

“I’m very pleased to meet you, ladies. I’m sorry to interrupt you at work but I had an engagement close by and couldn’t let the opportunity pass. I wanted to thank you both for your excellent work here with Admiral Waleska, and you in particular, Mademoiselle Flora, for your bravery and your kindness to Lady Marie. We are all greatly in your debt. Marie is special in so many ways.”

Flora couldn’t help but respond to his smile. “She’s a very brave little girl, sir. It could have turned out better but I’m so glad she wasn’t physically hurt. It may take her some time to recover from the mental trauma though.”

He sighed just a little. “Justice has finally been done, but it can’t return what’s been taken away, and it can’t compensate the both of you for your suffering, both mental and physical. I am sincerely sorry for it. How are you feeling now?”

He _was_ sincere. Flora began to see why he commanded such loyalty from the people around him. She’d go out of her way herself to help him, if she could. After only a few more words the count led him off again to say farewell to Wally and Dr Wrachmann.

“Phew!” Fiona stared after the retreating group. “I’m glad I didn’t know who the visitor was beforehand. He seems very… _nice_ doesn’t quite cut it, does it?”

“I wonder what he was doing here? And dressed like that, too.” Flora tried to work it out. Marcus must have known he was coming. And what had the emperor said? _Justice has finally been done_ …

“Oh!” Yes, she knew what the emperor had been doing that morning, with the armsmen and the count. She shuddered. Back to work. Marcus would tell her in his own time.

“About this growth medium, Fiona. Do you think two percent or two point five would be optimal?”

 

That dratted count had disappeared _again_ , and taken Marcus with him this time, Adrian too. He’d taken all of the armsmen bar Price and Sarmiento who were left to guard Marie and Countess Raine. Marcus still hadn’t had a chance to request an interview. Was life going to be like this for the next forty or fifty years? Flora rather suspected it was. There was nothing she could do about it. This was the choice she’d made, knowing who Marcus was and what he’d sworn to do. She didn’t have to like it, but there was no point bitching about it. She took to reading the staff briefing each day, put out by the countess and Helen Nicolaides; not the boring security stuff the armsmen wrote and read avidly, but the news of what was actually going on and how it may affect their day to day activities.

The mysterious Lord Auditor Vorkosigan was finally back on planet to attend the birth of his twins. The countess flew up to Vorbarr Sultana to be with her husband for that special event. They were the first of the next generation for all the cousins, apparently, not counting Marie. The emperor would be next. Byerly didn’t quite make the grade as a cousin, but his baby would be born in the late spring, and then the count’s own son. It was quite the production line they had going here. At least Lord Vorkosigan had squeezed a girl in as well as the heir…Honestly…Barrayarans! Despite herself Flora started to let her mind wander to the subject of babies. She was sure Marcus wanted children, even if he had been fussing that he was too old for them. What nonsense at only forty! Back on Beta forty was a very sensible age to have children.

Thoughts of children were banished that night when news started to filter through from the capital about a security incident. Olga Belka called them both down to the rec room to watch the news holovid.

“Flora and Fiona, you have to come see this! Something’s happening in Negri Park. Byerly Vorrutyer’s there.”

They hadn’t heard from Byerly in weeks. Flora rushed down to see what was happening with Fiona hot on her heels. It looked like total chaos. Streets had been cordoned off, soldiers and municipal guards milled everywhere and news flyers were hovering all around, well away from the action but with their holocameras zoomed in on the goings on.

Yes, there was Byerly Vorrutyer, looking strained. Darek Belka interpreted all the uniforms for them. “That’s ImpSec, and they’re Engineers. The Fire Watch is there, and the Municipal Guards are manning the barricades. That building in the corner is ImpSec HQ.”

“What, that damnawful ugly one?” Fiona asked. “It’s absolutely hideous. Wait, who’s that? It looks like—”

“Simon Vorillyan and Lady Alys!” Flora didn’t know what she was seeing. “And, and, that’s the count! There’s Marcus, and Adrian! What are they all _doing_ there?”

What they were doing was watching a huge hole being dug in the corner of the park at what appeared to be breakneck speed. It could only be for a rescue of some sort. Were people trapped?

The news reporters droned on, repeating time and again that there had been an explosion nearby. They didn’t know anything beyond that. Everything else they spouted was speculation, and annoying drivel at that.

All the cameras whipped round to focus on an approaching ground car. Long and sleek, with outriders front and back, sirens blaring and lights flashing, its approach caused pandemonium among the crowd, especially the ImpSec guards.

“It’s the emperor himself,” Darek told them. “It has to be. Those outriders are Vorbarra armsmen.”

The tunnellers had reached their goal and started plasma cutting. A huge grav tractor loomed into place and hauled out an enormous plug of concrete, at least two metres diameter and the same in depth. Soldiers disappeared down the hole on rappelling harnesses, and after them—

“That’s Byerly!” Flora leapt up from her chair and pointed at the projection. “Whatever is he _doing_? He’ll get his suit all mussed up.”

More soldiers and equipment descended into the hole. At last, people started to come out again. There were so many of them, all whisked away to the first aid shelter and the company of guards armed to the teeth. Almost at the last they saw Byerly emerge again with the strangest looking woman Flora had ever seen in her life. Surely she wasn’t _blue_? They disappeared along with the rest.

“Well, that’s so weird!” Flora couldn’t work out what on Barrayar was going on, but there was one last surprise. Fiona gasped and pointed again. “We know him, too. Isn’t that—”

Darek Belka finished for her. “Anton Vorberg. What the hell has been going on, to have ImpSec involved? I don’t suppose we’ll ever find out, but they can’t pretend _this_ never happened.”

“Marcus and Adrian will tell us what they can, if they ever come home again.” Flora yawned. “I’m going to bed. It looks like the show’s over.”

“No, wait.” Darek yelled, and pointed again. “Something else is happening. Look! People are running out of ImpSec HQ!”

Flora would never have believed it if she hadn’t been seeing it for herself, but she did check they were still on the news channel and not some weird movie. The ImpSec building was actually _sinking_. The commentators’ voices rose to a frenzy as more and more men started pouring out of the building. Some appeared on the roof. They needed to be quick as there were no windows to escape from, she realised. The building, and everyone in it, was being swallowed whole while they watched. Were there people trapped?

The vid cameras homed in on Simon Vorillyan’s face. He looked appalled and delighted both until he was hustled away by security personnel. The emperor, too, was driven away in all haste. No one could believe what they were seeing. The Barrayarans, of course, were more shocked than Flora and Fiona. It was _impSec_ , after all. It was maddening and perplexing but there was nothing they could do about it. How deeply was the count involved in all the goings on?

Olga Belka finally switched off the feed. “I guess we won’t be seeing the family for a while. I hope they’re eating well. Perhaps I should go back on the next shuttle.”

Darek obviously didn’t care much for that idea. “There’ll be orders in the morning. What say we get some sleep tonight and be ready for whatever comes in on the daily report?”

It was the only thing to do of course, but Flora woke to a house full of bustle again. She kept out of the way as much as she could, but it was Lady Marie who ran over to her, to say goodbye.

“Papi and Mamie are going on a big holiday, Miss Flora, and I have to fly home to see them before they go. Price and Grandma are taking me.”

Grandma? _Oh, of course._ Aceline Waleska was Marie’s step-grandmother. It was really hard to keep track of all the convolutions in the Voralys family. No doubt she’d get used to it all in a few years. Most of the comings and goings would go right over her head. She wouldn’t be living in this house, in constant contact with them, once they had married quarters or whatever the armsmen were allowed.

—Now that was something to think about. _Where_ would they live? Flora’s work was in New Sheffield, but Marcus seemingly spent most of his time in Vorbarr Sultana. Adrian and Fiona, _if_ they ever came to an agreement, would have the same dilemma. It was one more item on the list of things to be discussed, once they could draw breath.

After breakfast Flora stopped for a few minutes to check the news vid. The ImpSec building had all but disappeared. The park still swarmed with Imperial Engineers and in an ominous development, more personnel in bio-hazard suits. _What_? Marcus and Adrian had better be safe and well. They hadn’t gone near the excavation, as far as she could remember. They should be safe unless whatever it was had airborne distribution. No wonder the barricades were set will back. She did not for one minute buy the official line of a broken water pipe causing all the subsidence and disruption. Barrayar was just a crazy place, and Barrayarans were worse.

 

It was two more days before the count and what was left of his family returned to new Sheffield. They were all back home and settled by the time she and Fiona arrived back from the hospital. Marcus met her at the door with a huge hug and a guilty shake of his head.

Fiona looked around. “Where’s Adrian? Something else taking up his time?” Obviously disappointed, she marched past the two of them and headed for her room.

Marcus called after her. “He’s been running errands for the countess. He’s just putting them all away, Fiona.”

“Oh, well, he knows where to find me if he wants to.” She disappeared around the head of the stairs.

Flora tapped him on the shoulder. “Forget about Fiona. You haven’t asked him yet?”

Marcus sighed. “It’s total chaos in Vorbarr Sultana, Flora. The count’s been well-involved in the ImpSec affair. That hole in the ground is an old Cetagandan Bio-warfare and genetics laboratory, and it’s stuffed full of war loot. Simon Vorillyan and Byerly Vorrutyer, not to mention Lieutenant Vorberg are up to their necks in trouble. Simon’s been sent on a very long holiday while it all blows over.”

“Oh, dear. And Byerly?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, yet. I think he has to escort the party back to Jackson’s Whole. When I saw him he was frantically calculating whether he’ll be back in time for his son’s birth.”

“It’ll be awful if he misses that. What did Lieutenant Vorberg have to do with it all?”

Marcus grinned at her. “He went and married the daughter of the Jacksonian Baron who’s caused all the fuss. Vorrutyer dragged him into it somehow. Vorberg’s in-laws were the ones you must have seen on the holovids being rescued. He’s either a genius or a fool and no-one can work out which. His fate is hanging in the balance, last I heard. The count has made himself scarce, and come back here. He’s probably hoping out of sight is out of mind. The emperor seems to think he must have known what Simon Vorillyan was up to. I don’t think he did.”

“Well, I can understand why you didn’t bring up our personal matter before this, but you just march in right now and ask him.”

Marcus glanced at his chrono. “I can’t. I’m on door duty until 1800 hours. That’s only twenty minutes away.”

“You can ask him at 1805, then, can’t you? No more excuses, Marcus.”

He smiled down at her. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll do that. Your hair has grown since I saw you last. It’s extremely cute.” He ruffled her curls.

Flora backed off before she did something she shouldn’t. “Come and find me upstairs with the verdict.”

She'd headed off up the stairs, smiling to herself in anticipation of having Marcus to herself again, when she was pulled up short by the sight of Adrian Walton leaning on the wall outside Fiona’s room. His head was thrown back and his eyes tightly closed, his fists clenched by his sides. He was breathing as heavily as if he'd been running. He looked like a man fighting for control.

“Adrian, what is it? What’s the matter?” In dismay she reached out to lay her hand on his arm. “Fi hasn’t given you the flick, has she? She was looking forward to you coming back. I swear she was.”

He pulled himself together and gazed down at her with tears in his eyes and a stupid expression on his face. He started to speak, then broke off to swallow.

“No,” he said, with wonder in his voice. “No, she said she missed me. She said she’ll marry me. I asked her just now. I…I can’t really believe it. She’s going to stay, Flora. _With me_.”

Flora let out a whoop. “Woohoo! Congratulations!” She hugged him as tightly as she could. “Get down these stairs, Adrian, and catch up with Marcus. _He’s_ just off to see the count to ask permission to marry _me_. He can see the both of you together.”

Dour old Armsman Walton almost dazzled her with his brilliant smile. “Outstanding! Congratulations. That’s a great idea, Flora. I’ll do just that.” He plonked a kiss on her cheek and raced off down the stairs.

She called out after him. “And don’t forget to call your Ma.”

 

 


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be careful what you ask for.

 

Armsman Commander Marcus Fox paused mid handover to look over his shoulder. His attention had been caught by Armsman Walton. Fox dismissed his immediate alarm at seeing him run down the main stairs when Walton pulled up short in respect for the little ceremony taking place. He stood to attention until Fox nodded to Sarmiento, who had taken over the duty from him. They walked off together to the ready room to check weapons.

“What’s up with you, Walton? I thought there was a fire or something.”

“Flora told me you were about to ask for an interview with the count.”

Fox stopped to look at him. “Did she tell you what it was about?”

Walton nodded. “Are you quite sure about this?”

“You didn’t come running down the stairs to stop me, did you?” Fox saw a flicker behind his colleague’s eyes. In anybody else he would suspect they were up to something, but mischief and Walton didn’t exactly go together. He was one of the most serious men he’d ever met. Whatever his thought had been, his expression returned to one of bland neutrality. Fox tried to think what was wrong.

“Are you _worried_ for me, Walton? Do you think I’m making a mistake?”

Walton folded his arms and leant against the wall. His tone sounded very serious. “Possibly. It’s a huge step in any circumstances, and Flora’s a _Betan,_ after all. Have you really thought it through? Five years from now? Ten years from now? When you’re old and decrepit and she’s barely past middle aged? What if she wants to go home?”

_Yes,_ he had thought about that. It kept him awake in the dark hours. Flora had talked to him about it. She knew, and she was happy. “You’re asking the wrong person. It’s Flora who’s making the sacrifice. It’s her choice, and her choice is me.”

Walton shrugged. “Fair enough. What do you think the count’s going to say?”

“I think he’ll say yes, as he already knows I’m interested.” Fox finished the checks on his plasma arc before stowing it in the arms locker. He slapped the power cartridge into its charger rather harder than he intended. His stunner remained on his hip.

“What _is_ this? What are you so worried about, Walton?” Had Fiona told him something Flora had kept hidden? _Surely not._ He trusted her. “You’re my friend and my colleague. You can tell me what you really think.”

Walton sucked in a huge lungful of air and let it out in a lingering sigh. He allowed the tension build for a while. “What I really think is, if you’re absolutely sure, and you’ve thought it through, and you’re definitely going to see the count, I’d like to go with you, please, as Fiona has just said _she’ll_ marry _me_.”

Fox bit his lip as he finished punching in the lock code. Torn between hauling off and thumping the man or pulling him into a tight embrace, the embrace won, just. He let Walton go again to shake his hand in delight.

“That’s excellent! Congratulations, brother-in-law to be! Come on, let’s get this over with. Flora is going to murder me if I don’t do it right now. I’ve been trying to talk to the count for nearly a week.”

Walton winced. “ _This_ week? Not good timing, was it?”

“No. But right now is. Dr Wrachmann, Wally and his lady are all still upstairs and Lady Marie is in the bath. If we’re quick it’ll just be the count and countess.”

The pair of them halted outside the library door and came to attention. Fox put his hand on the door handle and glanced over, suddenly nervous. “You ready?” Walton nodded. With a deep breath Fox opened the door and they both marched in.

Count Voralys lay sprawled in an armchair near the fire with his legs propped up on a footstool. His collar was unbuttoned and his normally immaculate dark hair was disarranged as if he’d been running his hands through it, or had that been his lady wife? No, it didn’t look like he’d had a romantic interlude. He had a glass of red wine in his hand and a harried look on his face that deepened into outright alarm when he saw the two of them come to attention in front of him.

“Oh _hell_. What now? Honestly, all I’ve ever wanted is a quiet life.” As he struggled to a sitting position and put his drink on the side table the countess spoke to him from the sofa, where she’d been relaxing.

“It looks a lot like a delegation to me, Ivan. Do you want me to make myself scarce, Fox?”

“No, my lady, of course not.” He took a deep breath, but the count interrupted.

“Stand at ease, Fox. It can’t be that bad, surely.”

“Thank you sir, But I prefer to stay at attention for this.”

The count blanched. “Please don’t say it. I know, and I’m really sorry, Fox. It’s all my fault and I’m an idiot. You’ve all been overworked, the two of you especially. This last week has been a nightmare, and I shouldn’t have asked you to do all that for—”

“Sir, that wasn’t a problem. We’d—”

“I’m still learning. It’s damned hard to find armsmen as good as you two. Darek Belka turned me down. He’s happy with his admin position. I _will_ find some more men, I promise.”

“It’s not that sir. Walton and I—”

“I don’t expect I’ll ever ask you to mount a firing squad again. That really was a one off. I sincerely _hope_ so, anyway. Don’t resign. Please don’t resign. I really, really depend on you two. On all of you. I know I haven’t thanked you enough—”

Fox cut through his babble. He had to raise his voice. “My Lord Count! Sir, Walton and I would respectfully like your permission to marry, so that our sons may serve you.”

There was a dead silence in the room, broken only by the faint crackle from the fire. It stretched out as the count gaped at them, utterly speechless. He closed his mouth at last, took another gulp from his wine glass, placed it carefully back in its place and made his voice work after a first, failed effort. “You _what_? But I thought the both of you liked _women_!”

The countess erupted into a trill of laughter, hastily stifled by a hand across her face. “Ivan, you idiot!”

“Beg pardon, sir?” Did the count think he wanted to marry _Walton_? Was he _nuts_? Had the strain finally got to him?

Walton stiffened beside him, but was the first to manage an answer even as his shoulders heaved. “We would both like to get married, sir, _not_ to each other, and we’ve come to ask your permission.”

“You don’t want to resign, either?”

Fox shook his head in near despair. “We don’t want to resign. We _can’t_ just resign. We swore an oath, remember, sir? Flora and Fiona have both said they’ll marry us. Well, I mean to say,” now _he_ was floundering. “Flora has said she’ll marry me, and Fiona—”

It was Fox’s turn to be interrupted as the count surged up out of his chair to grasp his hand. It was hard to say what was uppermost in his expression, delight or profound relief. “Oh, thank heavens. Wonderful! I’m glad that’s cleared up. Yes, yes, of course.” He switched to Walton, nearly wringing his hand off. “Certainly you have my permission. You’ve got no idea what I thought when I saw the two of you march in like that. Well, where the hell are the ladies? Get them down here. This calls for champagne. I thought the four of you would never sort things out, and then there was that kidnapping business, and Flora being so injured.—I really thought I’d ruined it for you both.”

He pressed his armsman call. “Sarmiento? Champagne please, the best we’ve got, to the library. Ask Dr Waleska and my mother in law to join us, and Dr Wrachmann, and oh, anyone else that’s free. Lady Marie can come down for a few minutes, too, as long as she doesn’t bring those damned cats. No, never mind that. She can bring the cats. Prince Xav deserves to be in on this. Darek and Olga, too, and is Philip here? Anyone else off duty? What the hell. You come as well. Just make sure to lock the door. Bring two bottles. No, make that three, at least. I tell you what, make it half a dozen. Pass the word.”

Countess Raine gave them both a big kiss on the cheek when she could get near them _and_ squeeze a word in. “This is such excellent news! I’m going to go and get Flora and Fiona. They never said a word! Oh—”

They all looked at her in alarm. The count was still twitchy. “What, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“Your mother won’t be here, Ivan. She’ll miss it.”

He nodded. “Yes, unfortunately, she’ll be sorry about that, and Simon, too.”

Her eyes gleamed as a huge grin broke across her face. “Yes, but don’t you see, that means _I_ get to help with the arrangements, if the ladies will let me.”

Oh, it was a _good_ thing Lady Alys wasn’t there. Fox had to hide a grin himself as the countess dashed off to go pound on doors. The count took hold of his hand again, and grasped Walton’s shoulder.

“So when were you planning on having the ceremony, or is that ceremonies? There’s no need to wait, is there? What about Winterfair? Here, or Voralys House? The ballroom at Voralys House is yours for the asking. I’ll ask my cousin if I can approach Ma Kosti, as I’m sure Olga won’t want to be slaving in the kitchen for this occasion, or occasions. Whatever you want.”

Walton chuckled. It was still a very odd thing to hear. “You’re asking _us_ about wedding arrangements, sir? We’ll just do what we’re told. I don’t care what we do, as long as there’s a wedding sometime soon. The ladies will have plans.”

“That’s very true.” The count got a faraway look in his eyes, no doubt remembering his own nuptials in the spring of the previous year. “All you really have to do is show up.”

 

It was uncannily peaceful in the District House for several days. The busiest people in it were the doctors and medtechs, the only ones apart from the count going out to work each day. Count Voralys ventured only as far as his desk in the District Office, where he groaned at the massive volume of correspondence his secretary had waiting for him. Fox smiled as he closed the door on the two of them and took up station in the outer office. He was doing a lot of smiling these days, as was Walton, too. He might just put his feet up while he waited, not that he dared to relax completely.

The first deviation from routine was the arrival Major Karasavas, who’d made an appointment. As was proper, Fox remained in the room with them when an armed man spoke to the count.

“I came to let you know I’ve been reassigned, sir. My orders have come through. There will be a new captain appointed as chief of ImpSec Voralys District.”

The count looked dismayed. “No! I’m really sorry to hear that, Mikhail. Has the shit hit the fan over this bunker business?”

The major didn’t look _too_ upset. “In a way. The fan didn’t blow in my direction, for once. I’ve been appointed to Domestic Affairs, HQ wherever HQ ends up being. We’re working out of a basement at Ops at the moment, not an ideal situation, as you can imagine.”

“Wait, is this a _promotion_? You’re not being blamed for anything?”

“Not in rank. I was promoted very early in my career for that, as you well know, sir, but yes, my career is moving forward in a very pleasing way. I’ll be third cab off the rank in Domestic Affairs. General Allegre _commended_ me when we spoke about the move.”

The count whistled. “3IC? That’s excellent, then. Who are we getting, do you know? Is Vorberg coming back? I haven’t heard.”

Karasavas shifted in his chair. “Lieutenant Vorberg has also been reassigned. He’s on his way to Ylla with his new wife, to be Military Attaché there.”

“Ylla? Where the hell’s Ylla? No, don’t tell me. Probably as far away from Vorbarr Sultana as the emperor could manage.”

“Yes, well. The appointment was rather sudden. He left on the same transport as Captain Vorillyan and Lady Alys, as far as Komarr. Vormayer has been promoted to lieutenant, and will fill Vorberg’s old role here.”

“That’s something. At least there’s someone we know still around. I hope I’ll see you in the capital, Mikhail. There’s too much water under the Star Bridge between us to lose contact now.”

“That’s very good of you to say so, sir. It’s been a real privilege working with you. My wife might prefer me being stuck behind a desk, but we have had our moments.”

The count shook his hand. “Too right. The both of you must come to the Winterfair party at Voralys House. I’ll get Philip to send an invitation.”

“We’d be delighted, if duty permits. Leave is often cancelled at Winterfair.”

“No rest for the wicked, I suppose. Speaking of the wicked, what can you tell me about Byerly Vorrutyer?”

Karasavas had to shrug. “Not much. The party he’s escorting will arrive at Fell Station very shortly. They’re already in Jacksonian space. I do know General Allegre came up with an ingenious cover story for him being lowered into the bunker in that extraordinary way.”

Fox pricked his ears up. Anyone who could explain away that peculiar sight had to be a mastermind.

The count obviously agreed with him. “Anyone who can pull that off is an absolute genius. What did Guy come up with?”

“Apparently there are several fine carpets among the hoard. As Vorrutyer’s no doubt told everyone in town, he was the first to recognise the value of your Vashnoi carpet. General Allegre has let it be circulated that Vorrutyer was the only man young enough and fit enough that he could ask to volunteer to go in and check. So far it seems to be holding.”

The count gave him a dubious stare, but let it go. “Sela Thorne is going to be livid if By doesn’t make it back for their son’s birth. Who knows what it’ll do. I’ve heard the story of what happened the last time Sela visited ImpSec. I don’t remember it myself. I was somewhat indisposed at the time.”

Major Karasavas cracked a smile. “That story’s rapidly become one of the legends of ImpSec, especially the bit where it promised to break his other hand on the general’s nose if Byerly Vorrutyer came to any harm.”

The count and Fox both stared at that one. “It never did! I hadn’t heard about _that_.”

“Oh, yes.” The major rose to go. “It just goes to show how much everyone was worried about _you_. Thorne got away with it clean.”

When Fox escorted the major out of the building they stopped at the main doors to shake hands. “I hear congratulations are in order, Armsman. May I wish you all well? I was relieved to see Mademoiselle Flora make such a good recovery. Let me tell you I’m also very happy to see the count in such good hands. You’ve made my life a great deal easier these past months.”

Coming from _ImpSec_ , that was a compliment indeed. Fox walked just a little taller as he made his way back to the office. Philip Nicolaides was in the middle of the list of reports. For a change, most of it was _good_ news.

“Major Vorjenner has completed renovations on the gymnasium. He reports business is booming, not that it wasn’t good before. He’ll have jobs available for all of your service patients if they don’t want to take you up on Fox’s suggestion, sir.”

He felt obliged to interrupt. “That was Flora’s suggestion, actually, sir. I just passed on the idea.”

The count looked at his data reader. “It was a damed fine idea. I’ve got all their service records here. They’re all good men. Fingers crossed I’ll be up to complement sooner, rather than later, especially as I’m going to be losing you and Walton for a few months, Fox.”

That was news to him. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

The count’s face broke into a wide grin. “I’ve heard from m’mother and Simon. They’ll be at Beta Colony by the start of the school summer break. She’d like Lady Marie to meet them there, no doubt _after_ they’ve spent a month or so at the Orb. My wife and I think it’s an excellent idea for Marie to travel, but neither of us can spend the time to go with her. So…, I’m sending you and Walton as escorts, with your spouses, of course. Dr Wrachmann assures me he can spare them by then, as the local training is going so well, and Jos Vasiliev’s treatment will be all over bar the shouting, and the physio, which he will be doing at Vorjenner’s new state of the art rehabilitation centre. What do you think?”

Fox didn’t know what to think. See Beta again? See Flora’s home?

“Don’t thank me now. Call it a belated wedding present. I’ll let you break it to Walton, and the ladies. You’ll be run off your feet when you get back, mind, what with Lord Voralys starting crawling, perhaps, and just maybe your own ready to hatch. We don’t want those replicators going to waste, do we?”

He was getting really carried away now. “We aren’t even married, yet, my lord count!”

His liege lord rose from his chair and clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t let a little matter like that stop you practising, though, eh?”

 

_Winterfair_. Fox and Walton, resplendent in their dress liveries, waited in the hall at Voralys House. Snow covered the grounds outside and lazy flakes still floated down from the grey clouds, nature’s own confetti for this great occasion. The smell of pine and Winterfair spices perfumed the air. There was movement at last as Lady Marie bolted down the stairs past the huge tree that stood in the hallway, her pink dress with swansdown trim floating out behind her. She was full to bursting with excitement.

“They’re coming! They’re coming!”

Marie started to strew the floor with creamy rose petals. Thankfully she’d had enough sense, or warnings, not to do it on the stairs. The countess, as coach, in Winterfair red, made her way down in solitary splendour, and then— Looking like the proudest paterfamilias ever seen on Barrayar, Count Ivan Vorpatril Voralys appeared with a vision on each arm. His very best House uniform in dark blue and silver embroidery dulled into insignificance against Flora in shining emerald green, and Fiona in her blazing russet gold.

Fox was barely conscious of the sharp intake of breath he made, or had that been Walton, standing beside him?

His second, Harper, cheerfully dug him in the ribs with his elbow. “Close your mouth, Fox. It’s not a good look.”

Price had to shove Walton along in front of him. “Come on, they’re all waiting. Too late to back out now.”

The great doors to the ballroom opened and the seconds manhandled their charges into their respective groat circles. Olga Belka and Sela Thorne fell in beside Fiona and Flora respectfully and carefully helped Harper and Price close the circles around the pairs. With a bit of manouvering the principal witnesses found their points on the octagonal star: Ma Walton, weeping with joy, Byerly Vorrutyer, home at last from Fell Station with his hide still whole and standing as close to Sela Thorne as he could get, the two armsmen, Olga Belka, the count himself and finally Akito Wrachmann with his wife behind him on the next rank. Somewhere in the room, Fox knew, were his fellow armsmen, the Betan ambassador, Armsman Pym in his Vorkosigan brown, Doctor Waleska and his wife, Major Karasavas and _his_ wife, Walton’s sisters and their families, and so many others to wish them well. He saw none of them.

_Flora_. His beautiful, brilliant Flora held all his attention from first to last. Her hands trembled slightly in his as she declared her vows in a clear and firm voice. There was no wavering, no doubts, only immense, upwelling joy. Her gaze never left his face as they listened to Walton and Fiona make their own promises. There was a long pause at the last until Harper and Price stepped forwards to kick the groats aside.

“I suppose I can make an exception,” Harper laughed, kissing Flora soundly. There were startled gasps when he turned aside and kissed Fox as well. Price, blushing furiously, kissed Fiona and in a slightly more conventional way shook Walton’s hand. After that, pandemonium reigned.

The chaos faded into the background momentarily as the count pushed his way through the melée to take Fox’s hand. “Is it well, Armsman?” he asked, serious for a moment.

“It’s very well, my lord count.” Fox looked into the count’s eyes. “In fact, it’s a truly excellent day.”

“You’re my right hand man. I would never wish for another, but I do wish you every joy, Marcus, today and every day.”

“Thank, you, sir.”

The crowd overwhelmed them. Flora turned back into his arms at last. He held her face in his hands for a moment and gazed down at her. Somewhere in the background music started to play.

“What do you say to that techno smooch we never managed to have, Ma Fox?”

She pulled his head down to kiss him. “Call me that again and you’re a dead man, Marcus Fox. I’m nobody’s Ma.”

He shrugged, laughter tugging at his mouth. “Well, maybe not. Not yet, anyway. Come on, let’s dance.”


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EPILOGUE

**EPILOGUE**

 

There was an undercurrent of excitement in the room. The gathered guests held their concerted breath or talked in low tones as they waited for the doors to open. Vorrutyer House gave Flora the shivers, truth be told. The grim old fortress was surely not the place for such a joyous occasion, but Sela had told Flora in the strictest confidence that Byerly had turned quite frighteningly Barrayaran Vor when the subject was discussed. A descendant of Pierre La Sanguinaire, no less, should be born in Vorrutyer House.

“And when I asked Byerly where _he_ had been born, don’t you know he couldn’t answer me? He had no idea where he’d been born. Can you believe it, Flora? He said he couldn’t ask his father, either, as the old bastard had gone to his eternal torment.”

Flora stifled a giggle as she remembered Sela’s indignation. It had looked incandescently lovely as it disappeared into the nursery just now with Byerly and the doctors. Byerly just looked terrified. Count and Countess Vorrutyer had slipped in seconds later to be witnesses.

Her husband found her as the tension mounted. He slipped his arms around her from behind and kissed the skin of her neck just below the ear. Technically, like Adrian, he was on duty as Count and Countess Voralys were present, as was the most extraordinary Lord Vorkosigan and his lady. Flora had been introduced as part of Sela’s Betan support squad by a laughing count, but Lord Vorkosigan was vastly more amused at the thought of Byerly Vorrutyer, not Sela, becoming a parent. Perhaps there was some private history between them all she knew nothing about. Lady Vorkosigan, though, was a lovely woman, warm and welcoming when they shook hands.

At last the doors opened. Sela and Byerly stood together and in Sela’s arms a tiny bundle wrapped in an embroidered receiving blanket emitted a faint protest. Byerly’s expression was a mix of stunned realisation, abject trepidation and pride. The man was _bursting_ with pride, Flora realised. No, more than that. Lord Vorkosigan opened his mouth to utter some no doubt witty and cutting remark, but he thought better of it at the look on Byerly Vorrutyer’s face.

The pride blossomed into _love_. He spoke quietly, but his voice reached to every corner of the room.

“May I present to you all Belpierre Decus Vorrutyer, our son.”

As the others surged forwards Flora reached around to squeeze her husband’s hand. “That will be you, one day.”

He kissed her hair. “Six days. Maybe eight days. We’ll see how we go. We could use all hundred replicators if we wanted to.”

She swatted at him. “The replicators are the easiest bit. Isn’t it wonderful that Fiona’s decided to retire from the burns unit and run the crèche instead? The count was a genius to ask her, wasn’t he?”

She could feel him laugh into her hair. “All the count wants is a quiet life. If he gets his sons and daughters and _our_ sons and daughters looked after along the way, so much the better. They’ll all grow up as friends together.”

“Potential armsmen, do you hope?” Flora wasn’t sure she liked the thought of that.

“No, darling, potential whatever they want to be. Come on, let’s go wet the baby’s head.”

 

 

 

THE END 


End file.
